Geek chic

I discussed the burden of glasses in my last entry and it's fair to say it stems from joining a community who's most prominent members at the time were Dennis Taylor and Deirdre Barlow. They were hardly synonymous with fashion but nevertheless not far removed from the style of glasses around in the early 90's. My first pair wouldn't have looked out of place attached to some string hung around an OAP’s neck. Worse yet my 2nd pair were the forerunners for Harry Potter's, only too narrow for my admittedly massive head so had to be tilted up to a 45 degree angle to avoid leaving ridges in the side of my head that people mistook for white marks where the sun hadn't tanned me.

The trend for cool kids to imitate those brave celebrities who increasingly chose to look like a poindexter never quite took off. Or at least that was the case where I grew up. Anyone who copied the first that I knew about, Chris Evans, was met a reaction similar to Jim Royle’s "Aye, and he's still got ginger bollocks!" I once turned up to a Christmas party in an expensive new designer cord jacket and - together with my rebelliously long hair at the time - got laughed at (rather than admired) for the similarities to Jarvis Cocker.

The term geek chic came annoyingly after my adolesence but I like to think I'd have qualified. Half my life seems to be spent working on spreadsheets. From organising the house bills to making a note of present ideas throughout the year to make Christmas easier, if there's a way to monitor and improve a process you can guarantee I can show you how on Excel!

I did say at the start of all this I'd try to inform as well as entertain. And since I'm struggling to do the latter I thought I'd have a crack at the other!

The ability to measure how my training is progressing has made the task infinitely easier and so I’d encourage anyone going for even the occasional run to download an app for their phone. They vary in terms of reliability and nuances, but should as a minimum keep track of how far you’ve been and for how long. Most will link to their own website to allow you to monitor how your training has progressed and many will have some kind of community you can participate in to answer common questions or make it feel like you’re not in it alone!

I started with a free one called mapmyrun. As I’ve mentioned before I'm not sure what the difference is between this and mapmyfitness since most apps of this nature ask what type (cycling etc) of activity you're doing. The website seemed fairly straightforward and I liked finding several runs around my village (as small as mine) entered by other users, so was obviously popular. But ultimately I was frustrated at not being able to monitor how fast I was running, which looking at the message boards seemed a common request over a long period but hadn’t been incorporated. So I looked at the alternatives.

I'd downloaded the nike+ app a while back when it was temporarily free (usually £1.49). I'd never really looked at it but if like me you assume you get what you pay for I was surprised to see that this received fairly average feedback. That coupled with an initial look at the lay-out had me looking for another. I was, after all, looking for a clear improvement by consensus, all too aware how brittle my motivation was and therefore how likely I’d use a crap app as an excuse not to train!

My first tip of this (and any app) is to look at what the reviewers compare it to in it's criticism. One person mentioned 'Runmeter' which did indeed get universal approval. In particular the ability to run 'against yourself' seemed brilliant. However it was £2.99 and, like runner's nipple and as a Yorkshireman, it went against the grain.

I remembered a couple of friends having posted their runs onto facebook and quickly saw they'd both used the same one, a free app called Runkeeper. Like most of the others it seemed to suffer some criticism for its potential to have problems with its GPS tracking (providing the various data) but on the basis that 1. Most of those who criticised it pointed to how brilliantly it had previously performed and 2. I assume most people are like me and will generally only leave feedback if they'd a negative experience thus skewing the results, I downloaded it and explored further. Immediately I saw a function I'd not seen on the others. I'm following a training plan which mixes up the duration and severity of exercise you do each week, so the ability to enter my own simple workout of 'Run 2 mins, Walk 2 mins, Repeat x 4' and amend it each week was perfect. It also very easily asks what music you'd like to listen to (e.g. shuffle, specific mix) from the same interface which again made it simple.

A few months on and I can’t really fault it. I registered a problem I was having viewing my results online, which a few others also had, and a month later they updated the app to fix it. There’s a ‘Street team’ feature which as well as allowing you to view runs others had done locally means you can keep updated on how others are doing who you know use the app.

A common complaint across most apps is that the GPS is faulty and in my experience this is helped by turning the app on a few minutes (rather than shortly before) you go for a run to allow it to get a good ‘trace’ on you.

You can get a feel for how it works by clicking on the Runkeeper link on the right of this page. Above all my main tip would be to download an app and use it the next time you go out for a walk, even if it’s just a shopping trip. You never know you might end up analysing how far you’ve walked so much that you decide to take your new-found interest one step further.

Don’t worry though, I’m not imploring you to become a glasses-wearing nerd like me, just a runner.

MM

Glasses

Glasses wearers get a rough deal. Every time I walk into the warmth of a pub in winter from the bitter cold outside it's like a recreation of the scene in An American Werewolf In London where everyone turns around in surprise to see two Americans walking into the Yorkshire pub (for local people!), only this time thinking what a prat I look with steamed up lenses. I've tried temporarily taking them off until they've adjusted to the new temperature and formed tiny circular look-outs but that doesn't work either. Blind as a bat I find myself having to choose between either ignoring what could be friendly smiles from regulars that I might well know, or smiling inanely at everyone in the hope I haven't offended anyone.

Being short-sighted I'm amazed at the number of people over the years to whom I've had to explain that it doesn't mean I can see perfectly up to a point before a sudden deterioration. It is in fact fairly similar to (my ability at) running - all's fine for a very short distance before a gradual worsening that ultimately leads to a blur. I don't run a total of 3.5 miles because that's as far as my ability stretches but because that's the point at which my tolerance has finally ebbed away, having started to worsen not far from my front door.

I've still been religiously following the beginners training schedule but last week got to the point at which I'd normally turn round and realised I still felt good (compared to usual, not compared to being sat on the sofa) so carried on a bit further. "I can manage 4 miles!" I thought, then getting to the 2 mile mark at which point I should have turned round only to tell myself "Sod 4 miles, I can make it round this long circuit I hoped to do one day!"

It all seems so predictable now, but suffice to say a mile on from my first moment of inspiration I was in considerably more pain only now even further from home. All of a sudden running a first stint of 2.5 miles had gone from impressive to a dawning realisation that I still had that far left to run home. "I wonder if Emma would be happy to come and pick me up?"

That's the thing about an exercise/sport/recurring hell that is so individual, so completely dependant on you. You need a bit of intuition, of getting to know your body and your limitations. I'm not advocating hippy love and exploring yourself but of getting a better understanding of yourself. Much like my Mum who has somehow over the years come to know which foods "don't agree with her". Nor it seems do some shopkeepers given that one of them called the Police in to resolve a complaint she had last week.....

Having somehow survived the rest of that run I'm then left with the dilemna. Do I go back to the old distances on the schedule or, having shown I can do it once, should I do it again? Don't want to look like a southern jessie after all.

So on the face of it I've had a really good week. Having first added 1.5 miles to my previous best I then reluctantly did the same run again but in a better time before yesterday running a bit further to get me over the 5 mile barrier.

There is a reason for this seemingly sudden improvement. It's not come from any exercising I've done or steroid abuse (now there's a thought for a future blog) but because when I first had those ambitious thoughts my 'id' took over. I won't pretend to know any more about psychology than what I pick up watching Frasier but quite simply your 'id' is the part of your psyche that is most instinctive and impulsive. The bit that takes over when you wave your balls around. That makes you choose a 7 iron because 5 years ago you a hit a 7 iron 200 yards and damn it that means you're macho enough to do it again.

I suspect if you look it up in the dictionary id will be defined as an abbreviation, meaning idiotic. Because that's the psyche of someone who runs further than they really ought but who hasn't yet realised how much more pain is involved when they still have to run 2.5 times further.

MM

P.S. A couple of weeks I got challenged to fit a chosen made-up word into my blog in return for sharing my blog on their facebook / twitter status. I hopefully managed to do it without you all noticing but just to say I thought it was a great idea. If any of you have any requests (ignoring the father-in-law's repeated requests for me to "fuck off") then please let me know. All I ask in return is that you help me increase my loyal fanbase!

Puddles

What's the feeling you find most unbearable? I'm not talking fingers down a chalkboard or a balloon being rubbed (*shudder*) but that sensation you just can't stand.

For me it always used to be the feeling you get the morning after the night before, when you realise you've said or done something idiotic, something you'd never do sober. I once woke up to find myself surrounded by chair legs and a room that had literally been turned upside down, all done by some disgruntled friends I'd annoyed the night before. Which was genius as my sore head couldn't make sense of how or why I was sleeping on the ceiling and trapped in a cage. Of course the logical solution would be to become less of a tit when you've had a few to drink. Or, in my case, a dwindling social life will take care of the problem at source.

Every so often that cringeing sensation would come when I wasn't recovering from the effects of the Wine Appreciation Society or '20p a pint night' (God bless University) but instead watching my local news. You can guarantee every year Calendar (Yorkshire news programme for those lucky enough not to have seen it) will run a story showcasing a fat kid (ironically what they'd call a 'filler') performing a lousy version of a song to his school/the cameras. What was meant to be a touching story will instead have you wincing and in my case reaching for the remote, unable to watch any more.

As I've entered my 30's however all of this has taken a back seat to a much stronger feeling. That of unbridled anger you're left with when you encounter inept, danger to themselves, chromosome-challenged morons who - and this is the worst bit - have no idea what impact their actions have.

I sense you're not quite with me so let me give you some examples. When was the last time you followed someone in the supermarket only for them to stop, blocking the whole aisle with their thoughtlessly placed trolley, oblivious to you until you have to ask if they wouldn't mind getting out of your way? Or the Customer Advisor on a premium rate helpline that took 5mins and 3 attempts to navigate the right automated options followed by 10mins on hold listening to pan pipe music, who can't grasp the simple thing you're explaining or fix the mistake they've inexplicably billed you for? Or the coffin-dodger who pulls out from a junction in front of you, forcing you to brake sharply but who hasn't checked his rear view mirror in 20 years so can't see you flashing/mouthing/gesturing?

To a greater or lesser extent, you're left with that blood-boiling anger and frustration, not that they have inconvenienced you, but that they haven't acknowledged or apologised for what they've done and so in all likelihood will go on to infuriate someone else.

And it's in that spirit I'd like to tell you a little bit about what I've encountered in my last few runs. Just yesterday I went out, in between the showers, and had only been gone a few minutes when an oncoming vehicle decided my presence didn't merit her changing the line she was driving, thus forcing me to stand and wait for her to pass with my feet in one of the large puddles. I can only thank God I was out in the open country and that it was windy, because I turned the air so blue that Batfink would have been proud of how far my 'F bombs' could otherwise be heard.

Not long after, a woman in a red golf (note how the details stay with you) flew past me so close that some rubble bounced up and hit me.

Now don't get me wrong these people are the minority, and no matter how knackered I am I'll always put my hand out to say thank you to those who haven't scared the crap out of me. But as a rule of thumb I'd encourage you all not only to give runners and cyclists plenty of room but also to pull out early. Not only does it say "Don't worry I've seen you" but leaving it until the last minute can cause problems too.

Twice in the last few days vehicles have waited until they're nearly upon me to pull out. In the case of the stereotypical neanderthal driving the HGV that I suspect did so deliberately, it meant that the 2 cars that were (naturally) tucked up behind him waiting to overtake didn't see me or know why the HGV had pulled out, leaving them to swerve at the last second.

Again I don't want to come across all Victor Meldrew. There's been plenty of times I've cut things a little close in a car or no doubt pissed off others. But I like to think the difference is that I'm aware I've done it and will always put my hand up to say sorry if not apologise.

It was announced recently that the world population has passed the 7 billion milestone giving further food for thought as to, well, how we'll feed them. You'd be right in thinking it doesn't really have too much of an impact in a quiet little
village in North Yorkshire however I'm not one to shirk a challenge (unless it's asking me if I'll do another run after this one I'm planning) so I've come up with a plan. Why don't we do away with all those people who during the course of our day do something that leaves us feeling so angry? Maybe a 3 strikes and you're out rule so that we get the serial offenders and not the accidental incompetents?

Of course if your answer to the very first question was 'meeting people who are intolerant of others', the chances are it's me that you'd have away with!

Meaning

The impact and meaning of certain words can change - take songs for example. Cover versions can give songs a whole new lease of life and even improve it. Have you ever heard Bowie’s version of All The Young Dudes? It’s crap – and he wrote it!

Ralph Fiennes was asked in an interview how he tackled the role of Hamlet, for which he’s the only actor to have won a Tony Award for playing the part. Whether you’ve watched the play, studied it in school or just somehow know it, you’ll likely be able to recite the "To be or not to be, that is the question" dialogue. He answered that he treated it like an inner monologue, as though thinking it for the first time and not simply reciting it, and all of a sudden new life was breathed into it.

Recently the word whose meaning has completely changed for me is ‘endurance’. Without ever paying much attention to it I used to pigeon-hole endurance as sitting alongside stamina, simply meaning long-lasting. But over the last 7 weeks of training I now realise it literally means how much you can endure - how much punishment you can withstand. Much like watching Everybody Loves Raymond.

That might sound obvious but because it’s an ability I’ve never been tested on it’s one I’ve never had a real appreciation of. I’m pushing myself each week to run further and for longer (and am currently at only a quarter of the distance I’ll need to run) so with each run I’m always hoping it gets a bit easier, hurts a bit less. But it never happens. Running an extra quarter of a mile one day compared to the last doesn’t come from an improvement in ability, as it would with most skills but simply from prolonging the pain that little bit more each time. Of course you could argue that you gain the ability to endure more but it doesn’t feel like it whilst you’re out there. Certainly not this morning when I struggled to over-take an OAP doing his best impression of a power-walking Harold Bishop.

There’s been a few times over the years where I’ve made a concerted effort to get fit and joined a gym. Sadly paying more to move from the dingy dissanitary ones to the all-singing all-dancing doesn’t help you get fit sooner (my definition for that always being able to run for 20mins without stopping).  But whilst I always got myself beyond that level I’ve always been disappointed that running has never transformed from something that you can endure to something that you can enjoy.

It must happen to some people. Like those 70yr old lycra-clad cyclists with saggy bums on show who hold you up on country lanes. We’ve all met (usually worked with) the types that are one step removed from being an adrenaline junkie, always exercising and getting a buzz from pushing their body to the limits. But whilst I can look forward to going for a run it takes no time for it to become a will of resistance. Of mind over matter. The only buzz I get usually comes just before dehydration takes hold.

I don’t know whether I’m unique in feeling this way or just haven’t quite got to the level where it does transcend, but the prospect of another 10 months’ training is pretty disheartening at times because of it.

I’m as guilty as anyone for underestimating how difficult challenges can be. An ex-colleague of mine would pass the sponsorship form round for the Great North Run every year and if I’m honest I subconsciously belittled the effort it took (even to do it just once) despite always admiring it. Matt Baker is currently pedalling a rickshaw from Edinburgh to London for Children in Need and I can’t begin to imagine how tough that is.

I’m not saying all this to blow my own trumpet (if only) but to try and convey what the experience (for me at least) is like of training to do a half-marathon. Even this blog takes a lot of time and effort.

Having enjoyed/managed/coped with 37wks of pregnancy, Emma is now officially "full term". In other words our baby can now drop at any point in the next 5weeks, no later. Sadly of course the baby doesn't drop out at all (even if she pinches her nose and blows which she hopes will work) but in fact needs a hell of a lot of effort.

It's amazing how often having a child is likened to running a marathon. Apparently both take “time, knowledge, training and endurance". Yet as much as I might have a new-found appreciation of endurance, somehow I really don't fancy my chances of being taken seriously in the delivery room if I claim to understand what Emma's going through!

Nipples

There are certain things that you just don't do. Things that are just wrong. Like choosing ITV's news/sports coverage if there's a BBC option; standing next to another man at the urinals if there's a spare one further away; allowing yourself to be served before the man next to you at the bar if he was there first; feeling comfortable whilst watching 'adult' scenes with your parents; responding to your wife's admiration of a male celebrity with a list of who you quite fancy yourself; ordering half a pint if it's a pub you plan to show your face in again; or clasping your hands under the table at a sales meeting, accidentally making a farting sound.

Well you can now add getting jogger's nipple to that list. Like all those listed before, this is one of those lessons I've had to learn through painful experience.

So how did it happen? Because on the next run after last writing (typing?), I decided that a bit of rain wasn't an excuse to cancel but would in fact be an important part of my training, readying myself for all weather conditions I might face on the big day.

Within no time I was soaked from head to toe and by the mile point I'd reached saturation point. The football shirt that I thought would be an ideal cheap alternative to expensive running gear had got soaking wet and well, not to pull any punches, with it being so cold my tiny man nipples got cold, giving the sodden material something to rub against.

The same thing happened with my shorts rubbing against my inner thighs, though of course in this cold November temperature things weren't protruding quite as much from that region.

All of which brings me onto the subject of what equipment you need to become a runner.

First and foremost, if you're planning on running even occasionally, do a little research and get the right footwear. It's the most common tip I've heard and for a good reason - not having it caused my knee injury. Don't make the mistake I did of thinking your 10yr old, still in decent nick trainers are up to the job. Even the best purpose-built trainers are said to have a useful life-span of about 700 miles.

Second when it comes to clothing think about what it will feel and (just as importantly) look like when you're running. Feel because you don't want nipples as tender as mine have been and look because you don't want to be self-conscious. I don't necessarily mean about looking unfashionable but more your bits being on show. Personally I've found for example that tight/unfeasibly-small-for-everyday-use boxers are the way to go. I don't like the prospect of spectators waving at me only to see parts of me inadvertently waving back, however combined with the cold this solution doesn't help with Obi-Wan's cape.

Lastly, if you think encouragement will help consider getting the right earphones. Regardless of whether you've downloaded an app for your phone or are listening to an MP3 player you don't want the diversion of putting them back in place all the time, which happens with most that aren't purpose-built. I've tried several (including expensive ones) and am currently using some I found with good reviews on Amazon costing just £6. Sure for that price I've compromised on sound quality, but that's not my priority.

And that's it. There's more I can and will talk about another time but they're considerations that are either not important for the beginner looking to give it a go or only come into play when you run further.

I was going to add to that list at the start not wearing a snood or pair of gloves if you want to be taken seriously as a professional sportsman. But on Sunday morning I set my alarm early and took on the English winter again, only this time the frosty cold.

Every stride I took felt like I was punching ice and I haven't had brain freeze like that since I last ate a Mr Freeze. The low lying sun was giving off unbearable glare that gave me eyeache.

And because of that you might find that in a few months I've become the runners' equivalent of the middle aged blazer-wearing man with the hood down on his convertible, wearing sunglasses in winter i.e. adorned in all the derisible fashion accessories.

A trip to the sports shop today confirmed my worst fears. Not only can I get the snood and gloves but there's also an array of other gear you'd never thought of, including 'skull' hats, luminous headbands and wallets you can fit into your shoes.

My only consolation is that hopefully underneath all that gear you won't be able to recognise me. And that, fingers crossed, my poor nipples never have to go through that ordeal again.

MM

Targets

I'm never going to hit the 5 a day fruit 'n' veg target that the Government says we all ought to be aiming for. Somewhere amongst all the nicknames I go by, the term 'salad dodger' sits firmly and fairly. Whilst as a toddler I'm told I couldn't get enough fruit cake, only one of those two ingredients ever had a starring role in my upbringing from then on.

By similar decree we should also (apparently) all be striving towards another target of at least 30 mins exercise, 5 times a week. This I would argue is implausible, if not impossible, for a different reason. Namely that half an hour's run actually takes 2 hours.

Now I know it's human nature to react by thinking that one doesn't equal the other, but in the same way our subconscious can see £9.99 as a bargain and £10 as too dear, we are being misled. Let me explain.

Up until last week (ignoring my injury) my progress has been pretty good. Times have been tumbling week by week, I've begun to resemble someone that knows what they're doing and I'd become much more efficient in getting from A to B. I am of course talking about how long it takes me to get to the start line.

I once asked a very successful colleague what one piece of advice he could offer that had set him apart from his peers and his reply was simple. "Fail to prepare and prepare to fail."

Now preparation is key in all kinds of ways but perhaps none more notable than in sports, where the 'pre-match routine' has become crucial. Linford Christie for example would mentally "get into the zone", focussing solely on the piece of track in front of him and blocking out all exterior distractions. More recently you'll see the prevalence of athletes listening to their iPod for the same effect, which I remember caused a big stir in the commentary box when Barry Cowan did so in between games at Wimbledon as he tried (and failed, after all he was English) to topple Pete Sampras.

I mentioned that the Doctor recently recommended 30 mins of stretching exercises each day to strengthen my knees. The truth is I shouldn't have needed telling. I quit playing junior football for my local team because of the pain in my legs after each match. A specialist diagnosed me as having particularly tight hamstring and calf muscles, but that it could be fixed by doing certain stretches. Suffice to say I didn't do as I was told and so my new routine is agony albeit should get easier as I become more supple and stretch the muscles more and more. (Why not have a go and see how easy/difficult you find them?) Nevertheless having quickly learnt the lesson of the importance of injury prevention, this now forms part of my own pre-match routine.

Add to that getting changed, making sure all the equipment is fitted correctly and spending the time leading up to my run making sure I'm hydrated and fuelled to the correct levels and all of a sudden my preparation is pretty lengthy.

After my first run back from injury last week the pain in my knees was replaced with pain in each calf muscle from the warm-up. By the time I'd realised it had become too painful to stretch them again, as I should have done in a warm-down which again has now taken on new importance.

So throw in the time to warm down, cool down and get a shower and all of a sudden my half an hour spent running forms just part of a total 2 hours. Suddenly that 5 a week target looks more challenging.

Last week I had a meeting with the regional head of a multi-national bank that sets their staff no targets. Their hierarchy decided a long time ago that for a variety of valid reasons they were proving counter-productive. The result? Higher staff retention borne from enjoyment of working in a non target-orientated workplace. Remuneration based on overall contribution and not short-term success in achieving pre-defined (and commonly based on quickly outdated so therefore easily achievable/impossible to achieve) results. And therefore no pressure to lend money for the sake of it, thus leading to them currently being one of the strongest and safest banks in the world.

I guess ultimately it comes down to whether you're a carrot or a stick person. At University, for example, I'd always leave my coursework until the very last minute and it couldn't be put off any longer. Hence my only obscure claim to fame being that Zoe Ball read out my email on her Radio 1 breakfast show, telling me to go to sleep and that she loves my surname!

On the other hand the Great North Run represents (if you'll pardon the Carry On imagery it conjures) a huge carrot being dangled in front of me, with loads of positive reasons for me to do it.

In amongst the helpful advice that I've had, one or two people have suggested different targets for me to aim for in completing the Great North Run, most commonly beating the 2 hour mark. And there's nothing wrong with that. But for me my only target is to complete it, preferably without collapsing, getting fit in the process and raising some money for a very worthy cause.

MM

Cycling

I'm without question a man of routine. Of predictability and careful consideration. You might have seen it in action but never thought anything of it. Like if I'm shopping, you can guarantee no matter how much I like something I can't muster the spontaneity to buy it there and then. Instead I make a note of how much it is then go and research it at home. Can I get it cheaper? Does it get good reviews? Or you might have seen me at work, eating the same lunch every day until eventually my taste buds are beaten to submission and I'm forced to change. Nothing too controversial mind, maybe just the sandwich filling. Wouldn't want to push the boat!

Every time I return to the area I grew up in I'll act in horror at any changes - "There's an HMV in Harrogate!", "What happened to The Shoe Tree?!" In fact I'm so averse to it that Emma recently concluded that I'll never leave her for another woman "because you don't like change do you?"

So I've found the last 11 days since I last went for a run pretty tough. Regardless of how much you avoid a big change in your life the prospect of getting fit is really difficult if you're not accustomed to it. Take my sister for example. Me doing this has inspired her to step up her start a fitness regime and in the past couple of weeks she told me she'd even got as far one day as putting her trainers on.

I don't say this to mock but because I know what a leap of faith it is to throw yourself into and stay committed to going running. Having created a new habit of going out several times a week my injury came at just the wrong time. Being sidelined I quickly rediscovered old bad habits, eating comfort food on a comfortable sofa. I've heard it said (from the types of people who go to the gym on their foreign holiday, so possibly not to be fully trusted) that exercise is addictive. Certainly anyone who's been a regular at the gym will recognise the feel-good buzz you get after a work-out. Although admittedly in my case that was mostly derived from the knowledge that I wouldn't have to go back for another few days.

It's felt frustrating that my body has let me down so soon, so I trudged into the Doctors on Monday for some help, half fearing the need for physio for several months. Instead the final year medical student (called Dr Ben Jamin I swear!) looked petrified at the prospect of diagnosing anything more serious than a cold so was relieved when his mentor, one of the resident Doctors, entered the room. She in turn looked fearful when I mentioned I knew where she lived and hadn't quite yet run as far as her house, being on my route. In hindsight maybe the unshaven look and sweats did make me look more festive burglar than athlete-in-training....

She recommended I do half an hour's stretching every day (!!) and strengthen the knees by doing some cycling until it feels better.

To minimise the rambling for now I'll only focus on why the 2nd part of that prescription was terrifying.

There's a number of things I dislike about cyclists:
- Cyclists who ride in clubs and form pelotons
- Cyclists in pairs who arrogantly think they can ride side-by-side to force the cars behind them to slow down to their pace
- The outfits. I was once playing at my local golf club when a pair came cycling past on the near-by road, shouting at me and my mate for playing a "gay sport". By the time we thought to point out their head-to-toe lycra they were annoyingly out of earshot.

In spite of that I tried taking it up a couple of years ago, using the brilliant 'Cycle To Work' Scheme (though living 20 miles away I'd no intention of doing anything but drive to work) and persevered with a twice-weekly ride on an evening throughout the summer. It only served to add more reasons to that list, namely:
- No matter what time of year you always end up spitting out bugs
- In wet and muddy conditions you end up with a line of it down your back. If only it worked as a 'go faster' stripe
- Riding over poor road surfaces and speed bumps is a genuine torture method

But most of all, what never used to happen when you were a young (and lightweight) kid is the pain in your arse. It's agony and the only people who argue otherwise have a) been into it for so many years they forgot what it was like before they lost all feeling in their rear and/or b) they've spent a fortune on an outfit that includes a padded bum, thus managing to make their attire look even more ludicrous.

Put simply, cycling is for masochists. And they generally talk like this http://youtu.be/DciHPmkNOgE

Nevertheless lots of people had recommended it to me as part of my training schedule, and the doctor's advice did make sense. So after stewing on it for a few days, again not wanting to change my routine, I decided to give it a go today.

It didn't start well. The last time I went out on my bike was a few months ago to post a letter less than half a mile away and I couldn't believe how much hard work it was. Today I discovered why - having not used it for 2yrs before that the tyres were flatter than Katie Price's record sales.

Plus I forgot how much of a berk I look in a helmet... 

I soon regretted wearing the football shirt I generally go running in, the cold drizzle going right through me. But this was soon forgotten with the onset of numb bum that only worsened throughout the rest of the 7.5mile journey.

The one bright spot was getting a toot of the horn from Keith, God bless his optimistic soul.

I clambered off my bike and walked back to my house looking like John Wayne with a serious bout of haemorrhoids. Fortunately for my sore bum though I had a comfortable sofa to look forward to, which at this point I am certain would again be just what the Doctor ordered.

MM

Ice cream

Most men dream about playing for the football side they support, scoring a goal and hearing their fellow fans chant their name. That's why it rankles when you sense those lucky few that do get that chance take it for granted. Or when Ashley Cole describes being offered "just £55k a week" as being "treated like a slave".

I always thought though that the footballers that live the real life of luxury weren't the stars you read about every day, or even the likes of 'Cashley' Cole. No, if I wanted to earn the most amount of money for doing as little as possible, I'd be the reserve goalie. The perennial bench-warmer who knows all they need to do is keep fit during a week to get the best view of the match on a week-end.

But even so, they risk being called upon to play when the 1st choice goalie gets injured or in meaningless cup ties when the manager might want to give you a bit of a run-out. So what could trump being someone like Carlo Cudicini, who as reserve Chelsea goalie 'earned' £40k a week for doing just that? Well how about being a star player... who is injury prone?

Steven Gerrard this week returned to the team after 6 months out, mostly spent resting an injured groin. I won't suggest how a footballer might strain that particular area, but what is known is that, from basic wages alone, he received £140k each week for putting his feet up. Or about £3.5m. Not bad! You'd think he'd be grateful wouldn't you? Of course not. This week he claimed "the last six months have been the hardest of my career."

You know what Steven? I'm struggling to find it in my heart to be sympathetic. You might also suspect that I'm struggling to find much about running to talk about either. And you'd be right.

That's because the last time I updated you all I was carrying what footballers would call a "niggling injury" in my knees. However I don't like to think of myself as a 'fancy Dan' so went out the next day to 'run it off'.

It was a full 50 yards before I realised it might not have been the brightest idea. I persevered and managed to stick it out, in the same stubborn way that I look at a car boot full of shopping as a challenge to see if I can carry all the bags, close the boot, lock the car and open my house in just the one trip.

The next morning as I walked downstairs from my bedroom my knees almost buckled beneath me. I'd exacerbated the pain on the bottom/inside of both my knees and so reluctantly listened to the nurse in the household who recommended rest.

That was 5 days ago and although I could still feel my ligaments behind my knees feeling weak I hoped to go out for a run today. My opportunity inadvertently came when an hour or so ago I heard my cat squeal in pain outside as her bully attacked her*. I quickly put on my trainers and went running after her tormentor but just 50 yards later my knees are as bad now as that morning after the last run, hurting every time I extend them, especially as I go up or down stairs.

You'd think therefore that this week would be a setback in my training. Not so. Because I haven't had to look far for inspiration. It hasn't come from 'inspirational' Steven Gerrard returning to full fitness but from someone as far removed from that as possible.

Every day at 4pm a local ice cream van comes down our street sounding his chime (for kids reading this the chime means he's run out of ice cream). It's been much colder this week and it will get much colder in the weeks ahead but that doesn't stop him. It must be a combination of determination ("those kids are relying on me!") and optimism ("today's the day Keith, you'll find a pregnant woman with an ice cream craving!") that helps him overcome the obstacles, the adversity and worst of all our weather.

So when I am fit enough to get back training again I won't be dreaming about being a footballer, rather worryingly I'll be dreaming about Keith. My hero.

MM

* We now believe she was being attacked in an 'I want to be really good friends with you' way by a male.

Association

As I polished the lounge ahead of the arrival of our guests yesterday I wondered if everybody who's been to our house thinks that it always looks clean and smells of polish? When I was young all my friends' houses used to have their own distinctive smell however I doubt that's because all their parents used to frantically tidy up to make it look presentable like we do.

It's funny what memories your senses can conjour up. Popular opinion is that smell is the sense that is most 'tied' to your memory (or at least that's the result of my full 30 seconds research on google) but I'm not sure that's necessarily true. There's an album by a folk singer that was the soundtrack to every car journey - long or short - my parents took for a couple of years when I was a young boy. About 20 years later I heard it again and it freaked me out how strong the sensation was of being a kid again, and still does every time I hear it. Not as freaked out however as the man himself was when I spotted him in Debenhams in Leeds a couple of weeks ago and acted like a dumbstruck stargazed fan, talking gibberish.

Marketing boffins know that what you're listening to whilst they advertise is fundamental to product placement. It doesn't matter if it's a great tune (Lenny Kravitz's Get Away for Peugeot) or an annoying one (Snap, Crackle, Pop!,  Comparethemarket.com!) the chances are it'll help you form an impression.

Of course it can work the other way too. I met my wife's ex a couple of years ago who thought it was both original and witty that my profession (a banker) rhymed with ... you know what. He was the spitting image of and sounded exactly like the lead singer of Snow Patrol, and since that day I can no longer listen to what was a favourite band of mine because I associate one with the other and so have to change the radio station whenever they come on.

Equally last week l found myself skipping the odd song that was playing on my iPod in the car. I realised that they were some of the 10 or so songs that are on my playlist that I listen to when I go out running. Within the space of 2 weeks I was associating certain songs with that mindset of being out on the road, toiling away.

So for my latest run I therefore experimented by asking Emma to come up with a new playlist and determine what the soundtrack to my training would be. I'm told that changes in routine and familiarity are going to be important but as yet I don't run far enough to enable me to do a different route. But the new playlist, which I didn't look at beforehand, worked a treat.

Traditionally I try to look nonchalant at the start, closing my mouth so people think "wow he's not even out of breath!" before reverting to grimacing as I go up hills, down hills, get to the end of intervals....pretty much at all other times in fact. If you happened to be one of the cars that drove past me this time (if you were the bint in the 4x4 we need words!) then you'll have likely seen me go through any one of a number of emotions.

A couple of times I actually laughed as a particular song started that was put on for comedy effect or, in the case of Du Hast by German Metal band Rammstein (http://grooveshark.com/#/search?q=rammstein+-+du+hast), you simply can't help to find a little ridiculous.

In my final stint as I struggled to make it home and desperately needed fresh impetus the perfect song came on, Chop Suey by System of a Down (http://grooveshark.com/#/search?q=system+of+a+down-chopsuey). Again not what I'd listen to every day, but an aggressive rock song that helped me to run rather than stagger over the finishing line.

So my words of wisdom for this week are to have a think about what soundtrack you choose for your work-out. I can't tell you what music works better than others, but changing it about might help avoid it feeling like the same old routine. It might be that you can set it so specific songs or genres kick in at about the right time to give you that little push or lighten the mood. If it helps you forget the aches and pains it's got to be worth a shot, right?

Alternatively if you're the type of person that wants their head filled with negative thoughts and wants to associate their work-out with being a prat, I can recommend Snow Patrol.

Church

Yesterday I had a welcome day off (from running, before those that know me jump straight to the comment box) and went to my youngest nephew's christening at the church I was married at last year.

I'm not sure whether it's a sign of old age but I really enjoyed everything about the service, from the deep and meaningful elements of it's significance to the sight of a group (there must be an apt collective term) of babies each able to melt the congregation's hearts with a well-timed smile.

At one point during a sermon I noticed a couple of people on my row chatting away and it struck me that there were plenty of people amongst the friends and relatives for whom, rightly or wrongly, religion plays no part but that sadly nor too does good manners.

I wasn't brought up as a devout Christian and can only recall going to Sunday School from the colouring in ("this week, Noah!") and excitement at choosing how best to spend my 10p in the sweet shop on the way home. Perhaps unsurprisingly confused about it's purpose at this point, I always remember a friend's answer to my question of whether he believed in God. He gave it a few seconds' consideration and replied, "I'd like to." Which to this day I still think sums up most people's feelings.

Fast forward 20 years and it wasn't until I had to attend church as part of marriage preparation that I was able to form a more reasoned opinion. Without trying to even scratch the surface of the subject, all I'll say is that it's now 3 years later and I still go about once a month.

I'll quickly add at this point that I'm by no means a born-again or happy clappy Christian but am in fact still unsure of how important, if at all, a role it plays in my life. There are a few reasons I enjoy going however. There's a sense of community in always seeing the same friendly faces, which before Emma's pregnancy we'd get from spending every Friday night in the 'old man' section of our village pub.

Two of the vicars, in particular, are fantastic. One is the most engaging person I've ever known who you'd spend an hour listening to anything about given the opportunity. Once again yesterday all I could hear on leaving the church was a chorus of amazement and approval. The other speaks with such passion and conviction that I'm always a little in awe that anyone can convey that sense of belief, or in this case faith.

Every now and again I give my full attention to the lessons learnt from the bible readings, which I know is where I fall down. The last one that I did fully pay attention to the recurring theme was "So what? Who cares?" And it's stuck with me.

You see, in the past 12 days I've encountered the full spectrum of reactions to my running attempts. From the gob-smacked to the mickey taking everyone seems to have something to say (unless their jaw is planted to the floor). There's been plenty of encouragement too, and thankfully some nice reaction to the blog.

Today marked a big milestone in my efforts to run next year's Great North Run. In 12 days and 8 runs I've finally covered the 13.1miles that I'll have to do in *checking countdown on the right* 341 days' time...... only in one go and hopefully without stopping to walk.

That's a really long time, I get that. Pointing out that I'm unfit isn't news to me, but a reflection of how far (in every sense) I have to go. You might be wondering why I'm doing it. The answer is because "I'd like to." And you might be thinking I'm not doing particularly well. My answer at this point?

"So what? Who cares?"

MM

Injury

It had to happen sooner or later. In amongst all the running forums I've been half-heartedly reading (hoping to stumble on a secret shortcut to being able to run 13.1 miles without stopping) I've seen a few words of wisdom on how to take care of yourself. It makes sense, after all. Much as I might look like a neanderthal when I first get out of bed, the similarities to an athletic hunter-gatherer end there, and that's effectively what I'm training my body to become.

Amongst the injury-averting considerations I've read about to date are the warm-up routine, the warm-down routine, stitch prevention, limb/joint/ligament pain, getting the right trainers, when/where/how to take on fluid, the right diet and perhaps most fearful of all, runner's nipple. Most of those I hope to cover more in the future as I become more experienced and knowledgeable. With the exception I hope of the last one.

Feeling happy at the results of my first week's efforts in which my average speed kept improving, I headed into 'Week 3' of my training schedule (which you can see here - http://www.mssociety.org.uk/sites/default/files/Documents/Fundraising%20and%20donating/Running%20-%20Beginners%20training%20programme.pdf) hopeful about the making the step up. There would be 1 less set to do but an extra minute of each activity, taking me up to 12mins running & walking.

And it all happened so soon and yet (literally) in slow motion.

I finished my first run that this time had taken me that little bit further, onto the straightest mile-long stretch of road I know, when the voice in my ear (from my app, not dual personality disorder) told me to slow down for my 3 minute walk. Half way through that a man going on twice my age came....well, let's call it running for now, past me and I could only watch in despair knowing that he'd be feeling smug satisfaction at having overtaken me.

It's man's natural instinct you see - most evident at a golf driving range where fathers take their sons for a bit of practice, only to immediately pull out their driver and try to hit it further than every other man there. Or what my wife calls "waving your balls around", when a man (generally me) overtakes someone deemed to be driving too slowly, thus parading both his masculinity and hopelessness at the same time.

I watched this 'mature' man very slowly edge away from me, putting me to shame with his running motion that I can only describe as Benny Hill doing a cockney walk.

For the first time that voice in my head couldn't tell me to start running soon enough. When it finally did 'Benny' was now 200 yards ahead of me and surely because of my own competitive instincts about to be re-overtaken.

Only it never happened. I knew his frantic comedy action wasn't trail-blazing and yet I was unable to close the gap. I strained every sinew (what is a sinew??) and dug as deep as I could but just didn't have it in me. At the next interval I'd reached my half-way point and so had to turn back around, leaving him waddling into the distance and me dejected. The damage was irreparable - I couldn't complete my next (3rd) running interval and in my increasingly desperate efforts to salvage some pride and make it home in a decent time my own action ironically began to imitate Benny's.

You might have seen my Runkeeper report (if not there's a link on the right of this page), seen that I'd managed to improve my average speed again and thought I'd done well. But now you know different. Today my ego took a hell of a beating and I'm not sure yet what the recovery time is.

But I think I know the cause. It's simply being a man and being subject to a man's worst traits, and you won't find it listed on any of the running forums.

MM

Bin bag

I tend to only read autobiographies, mainly sports-related and of celebrities I've taken an interest in. A bit like running, it's a hobby I'd like to say that I enjoyed but the time (or rather lack of time) I've dedicated to it over the years means that they'll both only ever be on the 'Other interests' section of my CV to impress in the absence of anything noteworthy.

Maybe it's because, whilst I love to learn little known trivia (for which www.songfacts.com is fantastic, but you can click on that later) about subjects I'm interested in, I'm flawed by having a notoriously crap memory for that type of thing. Equally, if ever you hear me start a sentence with "Oh it's like that joke..." don't ever expect to hear the original punch line recited to good effect.

But there are a few bits I've retained from my reading. Like the struggle Tony Adams (former Arsenal footballer for my international followers*) went through with alcoholism. You'd never have known the extent of his drinking from his performances on the pitch because he'd get to training early, cut holes in a bin bag and wear it to sweat off the hangover. Incredible really that he was able to achieve so much in spite of the condition. Of course he's done sterling work since, setting up a charity and refuge for sportsmen who also suffer from addiction.

I'd intended to go out for my 3rd run in a week this evening but was having doubts this afternoon when I realised how much I'd indulged from my own form of addiction this weekend. Bacon sarnie, barbecue, lager, dessert, crisps, chocolate and my old nemesis cookies (about which I could write a whole other blog) were all on the menu at some point. But as I sat watching my 2nd game of football this afternoon I decided to put the effects to the test. What would it be like if I went out running feeling full, having been drinking Coke (zero, the guilt-free version) and without stretching or warming up. After all my father in law (formerly a very good marathon runner) had told me just last night that chocolate was good for training and that I wouldn't need to diet if I was running regularly. So off I went....

By way of quick background and to underline that I really am starting from scratch, I'm in week 2 of a training schedule, helpfully provided by the MS Society as part of their assistance to people who volunteer for them. That is, week 2 of two separate 12 week programmes, one for beginners (which I'm on) and one for intermediates. So this week I'm running for 2mins, walking for 2mins and repeating that 4 times i.e. a total of 10mins running, 10mins walking.

By the middle of my 2nd running interval, I was regularly burping from all the coke. Despite my running top feeling a little more streamline from being bloated I was running at a slightly improved pace. Ok it was slightly uncomfortable, but maybe the carbs & sugar were working?

If that was the case my performance dipped as quickly as it improved. Whereas in my last run I got a stitch just a few yards from the end of my 5th and final running stint, this time it came at the end of my 3rd, making the final two sets much tougher and consequently slower.

So lesson learned. I'll spare you the body being an engine/temple metaphors but simply conclude that I may have used the advice as an excuse to try and get away with old bad habits, only taking it too far.

I did run long enough to have another realisation. The autobiographies that I look back on and rate so highly are the ones where, cliché as it is, triumph overcomes adversity. I vividly admired and still recall Richard Branson's struggles to build an empire and Lance Armstrong's gruelling description of each stage of testicular cancer. Nick Faldo on the other hand shot 82 in his first game of golf at the age of 14. Just as impressive in it's own way, but not awe-inspiring.

If I can apply anything I've learnt from Tony Adams to my own life it's that I don't want to have to do all that running dressed in a bin bag. Not least because if I carry on indulging like I have this weekend it might in time be the only thing that fits me!

MM

* note the naive confidence/expectation levels of how widely this will, in time, be read

Bugger

6.15am the alarm went and Em (I'll be ambitious at this point and hope the majority of people reading this don't know Emma is my wife) gets up ready for work, asking if I'm going to get up. "Why?" I ask, forgetting I'd set my alarm for a few minutes later. "To go for a run", she replies.

Short of brain activity at this point, all I can manage to express my dawning realisation that today is the day is, "Bugger."

Suffice to say I had absolutely no inclination at that point to do anything besides wait for Em to leave the house and go back to bed.

But after a routine coffee, orange juice and breakfast bar I'm a bit more with it and already in my running gear (gotta look like I'm keen, right?) so gradually come round to the idea of going out for a run.

Half an hour later, having done anything to avoid stepping out the door (are my shoelaces just as I want them?) I eventually make it and have an instant success. The miserable next door neighbour is saying bye to his wife at the front door as she leaves for work. They both notice me with an expression of surprise that suggests I don't give the appearance of someone who runs at this time, but as I'm playing with my iPhone that's strapped to my arm and have earphones in I manage to avoid the need for false pleasantries. "I would stop and say hello but as you can see I've got fitness levels to maintain."

I make it to the end of my street of suburban new-build houses, to the top of the hill (to my surprise) and back down the other side, carrying on down the main road for another couple of hundred yards. The pace had gradually slowed and my lungs screamed at me to stop, but at least I only did so after half a mile, twice as long as my last attempt. I walk most of the journey back and clock up 1.14miles in 18:07minutes. Hardly world-beating but a decent first effort.

http://soc.li/aDJIjfC

It's occurred to me since that the run (or walk, whichever half of it you want to emphasise) didn't last 18mins at all. Disregarding most of my lethargy in taking those first steps out the house, it must have taken me going on 10mins to get the iPhone in the rubber case, strap it on my arm in a comfortable position, decide which earphones I'd wear and how best to have them so they wouldn't interfere with my running.

Add onto that the amount of time it took to research which of the mind-boggling array of apps to choose to monitor myself (still not sure how my chosen mapmyrun differs from mapmyfitness, but downloaded them both just in case it does), get myself registered and up to speed on it.... and it's a much longer process.

I guess I'm similar to a lot of 21st century fitness wannabes. The technology available to see where you've been, how high you climbed and how fast you went is much more appealing than the effort involved in doing it. I hope, therefore, to be a bit of a guinea pig in test-proofing all the considerations you'll face if you ever decide that you too would like a perfectly good excuse to blank your neighbour.

MM

Introduction

Hello...

...and welcome to my blog, charting my efforts to transform from couch(sized) potato to half-marathon runner!

I've got a few ideas on what I'd like to blog about over the coming 12 months (including I hope how well it's going) but it all forms part of my efforts to ensure that the run translates into a decent amount raised for my chosen charity, the MS Society.

You might have to bear with me, as today not only marks Day 1 of my effort to become a long-distance runner but a blogger as well.

So, for now, and until I can think of a Cilla Black "ter-rah" style way to end these posts, thanks for looking.

Mark