Running

The Mid Year Vomit Blog

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“Look, lady, I only speak two languages. English and bad English!”

Korben Dallas, The Fifth Element

On his excellent Podcast, Richard Herring used the term ‘Vomit Blogging’ to describe his approach to the art. It’s the idea that you just quickly spew out whatever shit is in your head, say ‘bollocks’ to the worry about grammar etc, and just post the fucker. It’s a great analogy. Personally, I would call it ‘Danger Blogging.’ You may be quickly smashing down on paper the unfiltered subconscious genius of an untapped mind, but you also leave yourself open to posting stuff that will get you a label that contains ‘ism’ or ‘phobe’ at the end of it.

Thankfully, being a lefty socialist sandalista, the only thing I ever get hurled at me online is ‘Commie Bastard’, which is just one of the many reasons why I left Twitter (yes, before you say it, I am very much aware this Blog auto posts to my still existing Twitter account). Not because I took offence at the name calling, more that it seems large sections of the population don’t even know what Communism is anymore. If you’re reading and don’t know the difference, here’s a simple explanation I give, usually in a pub, after shit loads of pints: In both Communism and Socialism the Trains would be publicly owned and run on time. But in one of those regimes, many people would have to die for that to happen. That one is the ism I don’t like or endorse. I’ll let you work that out yourself.

Get to the running you Commie Bastard! Bollocks to you, I’m on a Vomit roll. 

Since about April I’ve been learning Polish, which is a big challenge for me seeing as historically I’ve always been proper shit at learning any language. I scraped a French GCSE and did Spanish for two years. The only knowledge I retained was how to order drinks from the Bar and ask if there is a Beach near here. Neither of which I use, in case the locals think I’m fluent and chat back to me.

Why Polish? I’ve been in my new role about a year now and, being a Global company, the vast amount of my colleagues who I work closely with happen to be Polish. And their English is embarrassingly good. In fact, they’re probably more fluent in it than me. So, in a clever shite fog, I decided to learn Polish. Many of them warned me in advance about the difficulties of their mother tongue. I thought they were just being nice, trying to make me feel better about how inevitably shit I would be at it. But they were right. It’s solid. I’m trying a bit everyday and getting there slowly. I’m not sure how often the phrase ‘the woman likes bread’ will come up in a meeting. If it does though – boom! – Teams will be full of dropped jaws.

Get to the running you Commie Bastard! Alright, alright. 

We’re halfway through the year and where are we with that running thing? Well, pretty good. I’m nicely settled into the running club now. As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, it’s having the impact I thought it would. I’m seeing improvement all round. My tan is cracking for example. I’m currently sitting on 630 miles, well on target to hit the usual 1,000 for the year.

I went on holiday to Menorca in May with the goal of trying to get out for a run every morning. The other goal was to do it without chucking up the previous evenings paella. I was sweating Estrella by day 4, but I felt pretty good. One of the reasons for that is my new found ability to run slow. Before I joined the club, every short run I went out on was an arse breaking quickest possible time one. The result of that would be tiredness, injury, and frankly just not enjoying it anymore. Now that I do quite intense club sessions twice a week, I just can’t physically or mentally push myself hard on the solo runs. It’s a blessing in disguise to be honest.

I now do two ‘recovery’ runs every week where I just go out and run slow. I run at a comfortable pace, I look around, I take in the views and surroundings. Squirrels, trees, discarded shopping trolleys. This is what I wanted when I started attending the club. It wasn’t necessarily about getting fitter or faster, although this has been a bonus, it was about enjoying it again. Deep.

Race wise we’ve got the usual GNR in September. I’m also currently hovering over the Enter button on the Kielder Half Marathon in October. I’m 90% certain I’ll be signing up for it, I’m just working up the bottle. It’s got like hills in it and stuff, which sounds scary and exciting in equal measures.

For those not in the know, Kielder is a huge man made reservoir surrounded by vast forest, just south of the Scottish border. It’s canny scenic. I once cycled around the whole thing – which weirdly is 26 mile – but halfway round we popped into Kielder Castle, where we had a rather nice lunch downed with a pint. I’ve checked the route and race regs, and apparently this isn’t on the itinerary. Bastard.

So, there you go, my first Vomit Blog. Written in one evening and ready to post on the longest day of the year.

Dziękuje za przeczytanie, I would sign this off with, if I ever reach a level where I’m not just putting it in to Google Translate and hoping for the best…

North Tyneside 10k: The Competitive Edition

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“You know what *else* could draw a crowd? A golfer with an arm growing out of his ass.”

Shooter McGavin – Happy Gilmore

North Tyneside 10k anyone? I’ve reviewed this race a couple of times before. It’s my favourite child and I do it every year. Well, except it didn’t happen in 2020 as we were in the middle of a Plague. And I didn’t do it in 2022. I completely forgot to enter it until it was full. I know, what a tit.

It’s a great run. It always takes place on an Easter Sunday, which means it’s part of a long weekend off work. Afterwards, I usually reward myself with a big Lunch and shit loads of Chocolate. It’s what Jesus would have wanted.

This year though is going to be slightly different. I’m running, for the very first time, in the Club Vest. Fully fledged Club Wanker. I’m not actually sure how I feel about this. I’ve always seen Club Vests as a target on someone’s back. I’ll hold my hands up here, if I pass someone in a Club Vest, I absolutely love it. The pointless satisfaction I get from it is like no drug you’ll ever take. I am very much aware that this year non-club runners will be eyeing me up with the same blood lust and sense of smarm.

Of course, I need a Club Vest first. Getting my hands on one was very much an episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm. It involves a Club Shop that is open for approximately 3 and half minutes two days a week, staffed by a lady who appears to have sniper rifles pointed at either herself or close family members.

The Vest saga sorted, it’s race day. The first bit of good news is that the weather is going to be perfect. Cloudy, dry, and with a decent coldish tail wind. Beautiful. 

The run always starts at the Parks Leisure Centre in North Shields. This is technically an area called the Meadowell, a rather ropey council estate famous for rioting in the 90s. I like to think they start it there as motivation to run as fast as you possibly can away from it. As a Shields boy, I’m allowed to say that.

Usually, pre Club Wanker days, I would mull around the start pretending to stretch, stink eyeing the Vegan Runners, and basically try to remain as inconspicuous as possible. This year though, like flies to shit, we’re all drawn together by our vests. I’ve been a member for 7 months now, so I do know the odd body to talk to. Whilst not fully in the inner circle of the greater good, I am welcomed slightly into the fold to join in the usual pre-race shit run craic. What time you aiming for, the weather, any niggles, the weather again, etc.

This year they’ve changed where the start line is, as well as the route itself for around the first half mile. I knew about this in advance and approve of both. Rather than start right outside the Parks then head towards the town centre, dodging traffic islands and zombie locals off their tits on Spice, we’re going to start on a side road that takes us straight down to the Fish Quay. 

It’s a bit tight as the road isn’t as wide, so I kind of get squashed in with the crowd and realise I’m in a crap position. It reminds me of the time I got right in the middle of the mosh to see Ocean Colour Scene and really needed a piss. I won’t tell you how that story ends. Anyway it’s 10am, and we’re off.

This new start also means we avoid Borough Bank, an extremely steep hell of a hill that usually drops us down on the Quay. I climb this bank following every Great North Run after getting off the Ferry and usually want to die around a quarter of the way up it, looking and sounding like Arnie in that scene from Total Recall when he’s on Mars with no oxygen.

I know what you’re thinking, this prize prick is complaining about running downhill. Is he nuts? Not when the gradient is so steep that one wrong foot will have you cartwheeling into the Tyne minus your ankle ligaments. I’m not a masochist. Or a member of Diversity.

Instead, we’re going to drop down a much calmer and wider road. Lovely. We hit mile 1 and I clock that my pace is pretty good – 8:21. I like that. I nod to myself in approval and seemingly outwardly to the guy next to me. He looks at me a bit scared and sprints off.

I also pass one of my neighbours at this point, and in one of the most Accidental Partridge things I’ve ever done, fist bump him. Jesus wept. A week later, this still wakes me up screaming at 3am and I can now never interact with him again.

It’s time for my first decision. Stay at that pace or slow it down? We hit the Prom to head towards Tynemouth and this option is cruelly snatched from me. There are a lot of bodies about and I’m boxed in. I think about windmilling people, channelling myself as a little tank whilst I smash people out the way like a fat Richard Ashcroft. Maybe not. My pace drops to 8:41.

Later, when I check the results, there are just over 1,800 finishers. That’s about 400 or so more than usual years and it feels like it. Still, can’t be helped. This is the NT10K, not Olympic Qualifiers. Whilst it’s a little frustrating, it’s not the end of the world.

The 2 mile mark also coincides with the worst/challenging/shittest part of the course, the climb from the River to the Sea Front. I always compare this bit to a battlefield. Screams of pain, bodies everywhere, runners telling their buddies dramatically to ‘leave me, you go on and finish’.  This year is no different. It’s a swine, but I always seem to get up it without stopping. Selfishly, I also like this part as it opens up the course and I’m no longer boxed in. I like to think of it as one of the rounds in Squid Games. 

4 mile left, I’ve done the hill, I’m at the Coast at Tynemouth, the wind is on my tail. Previously I’ve mentioned that I have a setting in a race called ‘Fuck It Mode’. I like to think this is self-explanatory. In my head I say ‘Fuck It’ and then up the pace. The CBeebies version is ‘Beast Mode.’ I shout this out loud several times to other runners around me whilst beating my chest. Not really.

Rather than having more regrets than the morning after a night spent posting on social media drunk, the ‘Fuck It’ strategy is going well. This seems quite fast for me. I run the last 5k in 24:34. I don’t run a normal 5k as quick as that, never mind the second half of a 10k. I’m going fast and comfortable. 

Passing the Spanish City is usually the stage at which I start to tire. Not this year. In fact, a picture taken by someone from the club at exactly this point appears below as Exhibit A that I ran it and didn’t get a backer off a mate.

Club Wanker

The finish is always on the road that leads to the Lighthouse. I take the right turn and notice they’ve moved it back about 100 yards, the absolute swines. This is probably due to the start changing and the organisers realising it had knocked some of the distance off. That’s fair enough. There is no angrier beast than the runner robbed off a PB because someone measured the distance short. People lose their shit.

I cross the line and another first happens. The bloke doing the shit craic on the mic mentions me by name. Wha? Apparently this is another ‘perk’ of being a Club Wanker. They spot a vest, check your number from their huge list, read your name out. I kind of miss being anonyous. Disco Stu does not advertise.

I stop my watch and this feels like a good time. It is. 51:51. That’s a 10k PB. Even better news, my Chip Time comes in at 51:47 to give me 4 more seconds. Personally I think that latter time is lies. I started and stopped my watch bang on the timing mats. Still, 51 seconds off my previous PB. Have it. Even better, the distance was slightly further than 10k. A further dip into the stats shows that I hit the EXACT 10k mark in 51:16. 

I’ll be honest, I’m surprised but not surprised. 7 months turning up twice a week for sessions at the running club I hoped, but never assumed, would push me my running up a notch. And well, it has. I’ve run a race faster than I ever have before.  This is no coincidence or fluke. 

Something else to mention here as well. I notice that I feel surprisingly great. I didn’t feel uncomfortable or struggled coming in, even with the push of the extra pace. I recover pretty quicky, I’m not really out of breath and I’m certainly not knackered. In fact, I’m kind of annoyed with myself that I didn’t push myself harder to try and duck under 50 mins. Who would have thunk it. 

All that is left to do is pick up this year’s horrendous bright yellow race top. In the Winter, it will be great as a hi-viz. In the Summer, every Insect in the area will be landing on me. To book end this nicely, I spot some of my fellow club runners and join in the post race shit craic. How did you do, happy with it, the weather again. 

Then it’s time to walk back home. I have an epiphany during this. You could break 50 minutes you know, if you worked a bit harder. So, it’s on. The 49:59 challenge is on. Straight after my Easter Egg demolition. Obviously.

Favourite Runs: 4 Villages and the Sea

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‘Fortune and glory, kid. Fortune and glory.’

Indiana Jones, Temple of Doom

According to Strava, as of February 2023, I’ve completed 1,977 individual runs. Jesus. Pre-2014 I was on Runkeeper (remember that? It’s now the MySpace of running apps) so the total figure since I started recording mileage is probably nearer 23 hundred million or something. Point is, that’s a lot.

I’ve met a few people over the years who’ve told me they tried running but gave up as they found it boring. Unlike team sports, or even going to the Gym, running can be a pretty lonely place. Basically, I buy the ‘boring’ argument. In the same conversation I’ll also get asked how do I counter the tediousness of running anywhere between 25 minutes and a few hours. ‘Variety is the Spice of Life’ I’ll say, while my colleague looks at me like I’ve got a turd on my head.

Lots of different routes is what I’m trying to say. Hardly brain surgery or trying to work out today’s Wordle is it? Although personally I’m a daily player of Lewdle instead. I once got ’Minge’ in one. Anyway, if I just ran the same route every day I’d be bored shitless. More bored than watching all of the Fast and the Furious franchise back to back. Actually, even one of the fuckers.

Over the years I’ve planned and tried routes that were great, some that were blatantly a bad idea half way round, and others that were put together months in advance with military precision using Google Maps and no social life.

Some have become real regulars, like old friends, ‘Go To’ routes when I need to get out of a running rut or I can’t be arsed to plan ahead that far. I’ve therefore decided to do a series on the best (lucky fucking you) starting with my absolute favourite child. This one I’ve called ‘Four Villages and the Sea’, because basically I couldn’t think of anything cleverer to call it. And when you upload the GPS, it sadly doesn’t look like anything rude or funny.

The great thing about this route is that I can do 3 slightly different versions of it dependent on how arsed I can be. It’s either 10 mile (can’t be arsed) 11.5 mile (slightly more arsed) 13.1 mile (beast mode). Seeing as the Half Marathon Beast Mode covers all three, we’ll concentrate on that.

The first part of the run is pretty urban, and I don’t mean the Stormzy grime version of it. This is middle class suburbia at its dullest. I think the most exciting thing that ever happens on this part is during May-July, when the Seagulls nest and completely lose their shit when you run into their ‘area.’ I’ve never taken a direct hit from one of these flying rats, but only because I have the reflexes of a Puma.

Next we’re into Earsdon. Briefly. A once small farming community, now just a collection of nice old stone houses. When we were house hunting, my wife and I went to look at a ‘Cottage’ here. That sounds romantic, but you literally couldn’t swing a cat in it. I know because I took ours with me to test it.

Now we’re heading into some countryside. Well, we’re surrounded by fields for about a mile. It’s a long straight road into our next stop which is Holywell. Holywell is famous for its Dene, called Holywell Dene you sarcy bastards. The Dene is lovely but not somewhere I run a lot. As it’s a Dene it has steep sides to get in and out of it. I’m classing those as Hills. It’s also a quagmire of mud 8 months of the year and you don’t want to see my wife angry when I pop back with half a field attached to my soles.

Holywell is then absorbed by the larger Seaton Deleval, home of the infamous Deleval family. More on them in a bit. It’s all gone a bit ‘Urban’ again and Deleval is a bit rougher, but it’s hardly the home of the Mexican Cartel.

We’re now heading into Village No 3 and probably the most interesting of all – New Hartley. Historically a Mining community, in 1862 the biggest Pit Disaster in the World occurred here, when 204 men and children perished after becoming trapped underground. I grew up in a neighbouring Pit Village with all the men two generations above me old pitmen, so knew the details of this story before I could even count to 10.

You would never know as I run through this quiet village now. All signs of the Pit are long gone, other than a small memorial garden at the site of the Shaft. There was a bit of a local stink a few years ago, when the council sold off the land above the exact spot where the Miners were trapped to a Housing Developer. Common sense prevailed. Did it shite. Money talked, and now that field is another identikit New Build Estate. I’d make old pits National Monuments, but I would say that.

The Hester Pit Memorial Garden. Sadly, the view facing it is now a shite New Build Estate.

We leave New Hartley but we’re still on the History trail. Next stop – Seaton Deleval Hall – once home of the Deleval family. Hedonistic party animals of the 17th and 18th Century, if the stories are to be believed. The National Trust own the Hall now, where I’m sure they tell visiting children the more vanilla stories, and not the ones that involve hookers, donkeys, and coke.

Parrrrrrtay!

This is also my favourite part of the run and the bit I try to savour. We’re still surrounded by fields, but as we’re going downhill (woo-hoo!) towards the coast so for the first time the sea is also now in view. On a clear day, I can also glance to the left and see the Cheviots. Honestly, play me some Elgar and I’ll be balling my eyes out.

We hit the coast and sadly Ladies and Gents what comes down must go up. I’m into Village 4 – Seaton Sluice – and now it’s a straight run South hogging the shoreline to get back to Whitley Bay, concrete jungle where dreams are made from. And. unfortunately, the first mile of it is all uphill.

I’ve mentioned my ‘love’ of hills in past posts. However, I don’t mind this climb too much. One reason, I’ve done it a lot, so I’m convinced good old muscle memory – if you believe in such mumbo-jumbo – means this hill in particular is less of a ball ache. The other is the view. This climb runs right alongside the coastline, Collywell Bay to be exact, so take a look to the left and you’ve got nothing but the sight and sound of the North Sea. In the Summer, on a hot day, the breeze that comes off the sea here can be a refreshing and natural cool down as you slog your way up. In the Winter, it can be an absolute howling bastard.

At the very top of the hill you reach The Deleval Arms, a tempting place to pop in to at this point after the hill has you wankered. Two random facts about this pub. The first is, I used to be able to see it from my living room window even though I lived about 3 and half miles away as the crow flies, such is the height of the hill it’s on plus the fact I backed on to green belt. The 2nd is that there is a big fuck off boulder right in front of it. The Blue Stone of Old Hartley to give it it’s proper name.

Doesn’t look very blue to me.

The reckon this stone used to the boundary stone for the original Saxon Village that sat here. The villages at the time thought touching it kept you clear of the Plague. Rumors that during the Pandemic people were out giving it a daily stroke are unconfirmed. The other legend around the stone is that renowned local 17th Century ‘Strongman’ William Carr is the only man who has been able to lift it. Think of a Vitamin C deprived Geoff Capes. Random fact – my wife met Geoff Capes as a kid in the 80s. She has no amusing anecdote to go with it sadly, other than a picture I’m not allowed to publish.

One last fact about the stone in the picture above – it isn’t actually the real Blue Stone. It’s a replica. Too many pissed up wannabe Brock Lesnars keep trying to lift it in the Dutch courage/sense lost haze of 12 pints. The original, and keep this to yourself, is in the pub car park hidden amongst other stones. Shhh.

After that climb the good news is we’re into our last couple of miles and the rest of the way is flat as a fart. We’ve dropped off road onto the coastal path and we’re about to pass the Jam in Whitley Bay’s Doughtnut – St. Mary’s Lighthouse. It’s iconic, and everyone in the town is obsessed with it. You’ll see Lighhouses everywhere. In Gardens, on Mantlepieces, Stain Glass Windows. When I did a bit of self employed work, I even added it to my Invoice Header. You’ll also see lots of messages on social media from some of the more mature residents of the Bay wringing every week that it needs a wash/lick of paint. IT’S IN THE NORTH FUCKING SEA. It gets lashed by dirty waves and shit on by those aforementioned flying rats every day man. You’d need to clean it every morning. Jesus wept.

People mostly view the Lighthouse from the town to the South, but I always think the view coming in over the cliffs from the North is better. It’s where it looks like it’s in the middle of nowhere, as a Lighthouse should be, plus if you time it right in the morning the Sun rises just behind it.

Play some atmospheric music whilst looking at this and thank me later.

As soon as the coastal path ends, the town of Whitely Bay starts. From here, it’s a simple run along the path by the main coastal road until I drop onto the start of the Lower Prom. I’m now literally at Sea Level and follow the Prom all the way to it’s end at Watt’s Slope, around 3/4 of a Mile. Although, depending on the weather and how fit I am, this can feel like a horrible 5k where I just want to die. For any Parkrunners amongst you, this is also a section of the Whitely Bay Parkrun. Again, if the weather is great then this is a beautiful stretch to run. If it’s shit, then this will be a world of cold, wet pain. I finish at the end of the Prom and we’re done. Half Marathon. Piece of piss.

The Route

And there you go. You’ve learnt shit loads there. Win a Pub Quiz with some of that. One thing you will notice from the map above – there is a gap between where I start and where I finish. Why? Because I really can’t be arsed to run uphill back to home. I’ve just run a Half Marathon man, what else do you want?

The 2022 Christmas Special

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‘He’s a kid. Kids are stupid. I know I was.’

Marv, Home Alone

With any luck, it’s Christmas Eve, you’ve settled down with a nice cup of hot chocolate in front of a roaring open fire, and you’re thinking ‘what shit is this clown coming up with now.’ I’ll take it as a compliment, really.

The last two Christmas Specials have been pretty negative in tone – ie hasn’t the past year been an absolute shit show. This year though, we can be far more positive. I mean, apart from a War in Ukraine, an Energy Crisis, the Cost of Living, pretty much a General Strike, and a hugely incompetant Government, it’s been ok hasn’t it?

On a personal and running note, it’s been a mixed bag for me, as you’ll see from the list below. I’ve had my first injury free year since 2015, but was disappointed with the performances in both my Half Marathons. This prompted me to finally hit peak hypocrisy, by joining my local Running Club, which turned out to be one of the best things I’ve ever done. My fitness levels are up, my pace is quicker, and I’ve given myself that extra bit of motivation you always need during those hard Winter months of crap weather and short days.

I got a new job, which has eliminated my commute and given me more of a running window, which in turn has helped piss my family off less (runners know what I mean). It’s also given me more time to get back into Yoga which I have, big style. As well as doing one Virtual session a week, I also get in 3 or 4 shorter ones now. Namaste motherfuckers. 

As always, at the start of the year I set myself some goals. So, drum roll please..

2022 GOALS (AND HOW THEY WENT)

Update the notbuilttorun website a lot more – 7 posts this year. That’s like 1 a month. Sort of. It’s one more than last year. I’ve also spread them out much better this year rather than front/back ending as I have done in the past. Look, I’mtrying my best ok, WHY ARE YOU JUDGING ME? I’ve also had more hits to the site since I launched it in the 2018 pre-fuckwit dystrophia world we now live in. I’m huge in Ecuador. 

Run Every Day (RED) in January – Nailed it like a Messiah to the cross. It is getting harder though, as I get older and creakier. A quick look at my Strava in January (I need to look back to check, I can’t even remember what I had for tea yesterday) shows a lot of Treadmill runs and only two weekend long runs. Basically, it looks like the weather was a bastard and I mostly took cover indoors on the travelator blasting Eternal’s Greatest Hits. God I loved Louise.

Run 1,000 miles – I’m on a roll here. As I write this, I sit on 1,236 miles for the year. I’ll fall just shy of 1,300 by the time the year ends, but should hopefully pass my biggest ever total of 1,257. Although, the snow and ice might have a say in thatfinal total. Piss off Winter!

Get a PB – PBs? Aren’t they the kind of things new runners and young people get? As predicted, I haven’t had any milestone distance PBs. The days of getting faster 5k and 10ks are over. However, due to the quick sessions at the aforementioned Club training nights I have been getting a surge of Strava Segment PBs over the last 3 months. It’sbecause the swine’s make me run fast!

Run a Half Marathon – Now this one is complicated. I did achieve this – I ran two – but they were both piss poor. Firstlyin May I ran the Sunderland Half and wasn’t happy with it. My arse dropped out in the last couple of miles. I had a shitter. Fast forward to the Great North Run in September and the same story. Arse. Shitter. As I mentioned in the intro above, this was the catalyst for joining the Running Club. Stop being shit at Half Marathons. I need to fall back in love with it again in 2023.

Run longer than 13.1 miles – Every year I put this in, every year I fail to do anything about it. I don’t even have injury or time as an excuse this year. It will go on my 2023 Goals as well. Next year I have a feeling though. Just see.

300 miles on Zwift – Oh dear. I wrote a piece earlier in the year about how I’d fallen out with Zwift. The RunPod was forever dropping out, and no amount or battery change, calibration, or standing on my head was helping. I then turned my Treadmill room (don’t you all have one of those?) into an Office to work from home so there was no space for my makeshift-box-with-the-ipad-on that I was using to run Zwift. In October, I decided to give it another go, with the ‘genius’ idea of blutacking the iPad to the Treadmill. This worked a treat…until the 4th time when it came crashing off. Pondering my next move to be honest.

Run on Holiday – I sort of went on holiday, and I sort of didn’t. Not abroad anyway, but I did pop off to Shropshire to stay with my wife’s family. I go there every year and I run there every year. It’s Hell. I keep meaning to write a post about it. It’s like a Boot Camp, the place is just a collection of hills from which there is no escape. However, it doesn’t half do me the world of good. 

Remain in Employment – I know I always say I’m staying away from politics but lets be honest, the UK is a bit of a shit show at the minute isn’t it? Therefore I continue to prayer and worship all Deities, Gods, and Cults that I remain able to pay the bills and provide for the family. In 2022 I not only managed to remain in Employment, I also allowed myself to be poached like a footballer to go and signed for a bigger rival. So far, so good. In fact, it’s going too well. It’s a trap.

Avoid catching/passing on COVID – When we think COVID visited Casa Notbuilttorun way back in 2020 (before Tests), everyone was ill except me. I felt fine. Apart from one thing – for a week I had painful chilblains on my toes. I’ve never suffered from chilblains. In November I got a little cold, and then for a couple of weeks after I got really painful chilblains on my fingers. So this was probably a fail.

So, a year of change but the most normal year we’ve had since 2019. Scary isn’t it. Who knows what 2023 has in store for us. The way things are going, Nuclear War and the Hunger Games. Christ, this is cheerful. 

As always, I wish you all a stress-free Christmas and New Year and hope your running year has been positive and enjoyable – whatever your pace, distance, or goals.

Right. I’m off to make a start on the Pringles. 

Merry Christmas!

The Quarter 3 Update

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So we just gonna ignore the bear then?

Simon, Midsommar

Summer is over. No, it is, I’ve just looked out the window. It’s deader than Kevin Spacey’s career. We’re into the last part of the year and what I always call the ‘difficult’ running months. The Great North Run has been and gone (read about how shit the start was here!), the weather is on the turn and the days are shorter. Bet this is cheering you up.

But enough about what’s to come, let’s look back at what happened July to September. Well, July was hot. Not the usual hot that everyone is fine in, but me as a pasty northerner born with the howling North Sea wind on my face struggles in – it was proper hot. We hit 37C on the North East coast. My pathetic bitching and excuses about running in the heat was, for once, fully justified.

On the day it hit it’s hottest, I decided to head out for a run really early. 6am in fact. I ran down to the sea front and it was like a Bank Holiday Monday. 6am. Everyone had the same idea. Runners, dog walkers, families on the beach. It was already about 22C by 6:30am and everyone was out in it before the worst of the day. Between this and running down the middle of empty dual carriageways during lockdown, the last couple of years have been nuts.

I did a lot of early morning running over this past Summer. With my job now being completely remote and the commute no longer an issue, I had time to. It was great, probably one of the best summers of running I’ve ever had. By 8am I’ve usually done 5k, I’m awake, and ready for my day. I also had time to get back into Yoga, something which benefits me both in running recovery and also my head if I’m being honest. Anyway, this post is in danger of turning into serious running advice or something and we can’t have that. Here, look at this picture of my slightly rude looking office cactus to help re-lower the tone.

‘It’s cold ok?’

In August I did my usual visit to my wife’s family in Shropshire. I do have a post pending about this, which I will get round to finishing. Probably. I always take my running gear and very much have a love/hate relationship with the place. It’s hilly. The kind of hills Kate Bush was talking about when she wrote ‘Running Up That Hill’ as a metaphor for ‘something that is really fucking hard.’

The positive of all that hill running is that when I come back to the flat as a fart coast I feel like an Ultra Runner. Slight inclines that would kill me in July are flown up and V flicked for the whole week after. It does only last a week though. If only I could bottle it, I would. I always feel fanfuckingtastic.

Hills. Thousands of them.

Then came the Great North Run. If you’ve read the review (here! here! read it here!) you’ll know that the start was a clusterfuck and my run was the drizzling shits. See, I’ve saved you 10 minutes. My biggest issue every year though is the post-GNR comedown. How do I get back my running mojo. How do I get over the post run blues when I’ve got nothing tangible to run for?

So I’ve joined a Cult. I say Cult, I mean Running Club. Same thing. Well, I’m on a trial run (hahaha!). Yes, what a fucking hypocrite. I’ve spent many a blog sticking in the knife about running clubs based on nothing but sheer ignorance, generalisations, and stubbornness. It’s the British way.

It’s early days but, unfortunately, I have to report that the first weeks have been…and I shudder when I say this…excellent. Urgh. I will save the full details for the Christmas Special (eeeeeh Christmas!) but I’m finding it…and this one’s a huge shudder..enjoyable and beneficial. God I feel dirty.

So, as things stand, the plan for the final 3 months is to keep both my mojo and the mileage going. Unless something dramatic happens, and the last time I wrote that in a blog we had a global pandemic 4 weeks later, I should hit 1,000 miles for the year by mid October. If I can finish on 1,200, I’ll be absolutely delighted Gary.

That it. You can leave now.

Great North Run 2022

notbuilttorun, , 1 Comment

‘You wanted me back… I’m back!’

John Wick, John Wick

God, this review was going to be far more simpler. The Great North Run is back to it’s proper course, I trained for and completed it, we all had shits and giggles along the way. Then things got a bit complicated. Anyway, let’s make a start and see how we get on shall we.

This is Great North Run number 11 for me. I’ve run everyone since 2011. I did it ‘virtually’ in 2020 when it was cancelled, but didn’t sign up for it officially as the amount GNR wanted to charge you for a medal and t-shirt would have left my family hungry and homeless. I’ve written about the whys and hows of running this event in previous blogs, so feel free to go back and look them up. Really, I could do with the clicks.

When the GNR returned in 2021, it was so shit scared of being cancelled or accused of COVID super spreading that it changed the whole start, finish, and route. And you know what, it was excellent. The start was the most chilled and easiest experience I’d ever had at the GNR and I applauded them for it in my review. We’ll talk about the 2022 shit show version of this start a bit later.

Training for this GNR had gone quite well. I’m now working fully remote in my job (side note, remember that twat who wrote in his blog that working remotely was shit and he would never do it full time? Whoops) so sticking to a training plan and routine going into this GNR has been a piece of piss. I was also, for the first time in yonks, injury free. Even my grumbling Achilles has given it a rest.

My biggest pain in the arse this year is probably the same as everyone else; the bastard heat. I live on the North East coast and even we’ve had 30 odd degrees spells, so god help you all down south (which is pretty much everyone to me). I don’t do the heat or humidity. It is my Kryptonite. It is the Tommy Lee to my Pamela Anderson. I’m absolutely shit in it.

I run a half 4 weeks before the real thing and come home in 1:54:19. Honestly, give me the medal now, I’m flying. Then, during the week leading up to the run, something strange happens. The left side of my face starts to hurt and then swells up. Interesting. Being a man, I take the appropriate action – I ignore it and just hammer Ibuprofen all week. It’s not the worst thing to happen that week though.

The elephant in the room. On the Thursday the Queen dies. Now, let’s all be honest with each other. I’m not a royalist. The Queen seemed like a lovely lady and it’s very sad when anyone dies, but I’ve never been a fan of the idea of the royal family and the privilege that comes with it. It’s my Grandads fault I think like that. Bloody socialists. Anyway, we’ll leave it at that. RIP.

Having said that, the GNR then issue an absolutely crazy statement on the Thursday night hinting that the run might be off and an announcement would be made Friday morning. Nonsense, to quote Roy Keane. Sense finally prevails on Friday lunchtime when they confirm it’s on, but it will be a more subdued and respectful event. I’m all for compromise, it makes the world go round. Sensible decision.

Some knacker on my Charities FaceBook page announces he can no longer run for the charity due to ‘events of the past 24 hours’ and bails out. I resist replying on the page out of respect for the charity. I also, after many rewrites of this blog I can tell you, decide not to say anything about it here. Honestly, if you could see the state of my bottom lip being bitten right now. Anyway, I’m many things, but disrespectful I’m not. I’m currently thinking of fluffy white kittens and rainbows and leaving it at that.

Right, if you’re still there, on to the race itself. And well, I’m definitely not biting my lip now. The start this year was a complete change from the norm and if you’re the person from the Great Run company who came up with this plan, you can fuck off into Cunt Corner with my mate from Facebook (shit, I’ve slipped). What a shambles.

This year, they obviously must have run a competition for under 5s to design the start. Yeah, just draw it in crayons and stick snot on it and the one we think is the cutest we’ll go with. I jest but I bet I’m not far off. From the moment I saw the map I knew it was in trouble. Let’s get a bit Poirot and take a look at the evidence shall we.

Clusterfuck number 1. Shut off the slip roads onto the Central Motorway to only certain bibs and make everyone from the Orange and White waves head to one entrance into Exhibition Park.

Clusterfuck number 2. Once in Exhibition Park, make all of the people from the Orange and White Waves squeeze through a tiny gate onto the Town Moor.

Clusterfuck number 3. Once you’ve squeezed everyone though that, stick the toilets in a really bad place just to the left of that whilst also providing far less of them than usual.

Clusterfuck number 4. Get everyone from the Orange Waves to squeeze through a small exit off the Town Moor and onto the Central Motorway. Even better, stick the small exit for the White Wave RIGHT NEXT TO IT.

Carnage. I hope whoever came up with this plan was not only sacked on the Monday morning, but also forced to listen to The Cheeky Girls greatest hits on repeat all week whilst simultaneously made to watch Liz Truzz’s Cheese speech.

Absolute shower.

Due to all of the above, I get into my pen just as it’s about to close, despite attempting to do this 45 MINUTES BEFOREHAND. Honestly, my blood pressure. I am in though in time for two important things. The minutes silence and the National Anthem. I respect both magnificently. Did I really? 1:06 and 1:46 into the below says I did mofos.

https://www.bbc.co.uk/sport/av/athletics/62872029

Basically, here I am.

Where’s Wally

Fame over with, it’s time to start. It literally really is time to start as I got into the pen so late. I’m in Wave 5, which is classed as being near the front ish, but it seems to take me much longer to get over the line this year. Don’t worry though, he’s back, the dulcet tones of local celebrity and top Accidental Partridge wanker DJ Alan Robson keep me company. As if today wasn’t depressing enough. This years top pick quotes from Alan:

”DIABETES UK! Guilty as charged love!’

“Here come the ladies with Breast Cancer!’

Alan haunts me in my dreams. Back to the race and it becomes obvious very early on ladies and gents that this year I really am going to have a shitter. My face swelling and smashing of Ibuprofen hasn’t helped my last minute prep and from the get go I’m feeling like this is going to be a right leggy slog. And by Christ it is. Even worse, my heart rate on mile 2 is already sitting at 170bpm. What? Am I having some sort of cardiac incident? Normally on a half it splits between the aerobic 150 and the more stressful 160bpm. Today though, it’s like I’ve taken an E.

This really isn’t going well. I settle into it a little bit, but my pace is crap. When I say crap, I mean crap for me. I run the Half Marathon distance in around 8:40-45 pace. Today I’m puffing around at well over 9 minute pace with no sign I can push harder than that. Yes, it’s a bit hot and humid (18C) but I’m bored of using that as an excuse for myself.

At mile 8 I do something I NEVER do. Ever. When I get to the Water Station, I grab a bottle and come off course to drink it. That’s right. I stop. I’ve never done that before. I feel dirty. But you know what? I’m not an idiot. Water and a good talking to is what I need, and I give myself both. After that I’m back on track and whilst I definitely still feel like it’s all far too hard work, I push myself through the rest of the run and finish in 2:03:39.

Am I disappointed? Yes and no. I run sub 2 hour Half’s for breakfast, and here I am struggling my way to one 8 minutes off my usual pace. However, it’s not about me. It’s about the charity. It’s still the 4th fastest I’ve run this course. I soon get over myself and head off to the Charity tent, where the wonderful St.Oswald’s Hospice give me sausage rolls and Vimto and take my photo.

Elephant Man

So, a hard but rewarding GNR. In 2011 I ran this course in 2:15. Here I am 11 years later slightly disappointed in a time 12 minutes quicker whilst raising £500 for charity. First World Problems.

The painful swollen face? The day after the run it suddenly went pain free and down to normal size, like a cruel joke. A week later I knock out an enjoyable and comfortable 11 miler in 1:36 – with a normal heart rate. Such is the life of a runner.

I still love the GNR, it will always be my race. But please for the love of all things holy, change the start back for next year.

Hilariously, I leave you with this. I’ve joined a running club. I really am a walking (or running) contradiction. Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.

The Thankfully Brief Quarter 2 Update

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Well, on Sundays I used to like to go hiking, but now…

Heather Donahue – The Blair Witch Project

6 months down, 6 to go. It’ll soon be Christmas. ’I won’t be here at Christmas’ my granny used to say to us. You know what, one year she was spot on.

Anyway, enough of her (she was a bloody awful woman if I’m honest) and on to the update. Firstly, the elephant in the room, where have I been? What do you mean you didn’t notice I’d gone? Fickle bastards. Well in April, I decided to take a Social Media as well as general all round break from that there internet. At least the proper bollocks bit of it. I do this from time to time when I find its pissing me off. Saves me kicking the cat. I don’t really kick my cat, but if I joked about that on Twitter some twat would start a pile on before lunch time.

This time, my break was more accidental than by design. In March I accepted a new job offer, and with that came 3 months notice. 3 months. They hand out softer sentences at courts (I sound like the poisonous Daily Mail here). Therefore April, May, and June have basically seen me doing what they call in the industry ‘working my tits off’ to leave my old job in a good place. I also wanted to enter my new one like a prize Stallion, ready for the Breeding Phantom to get cracked out.

Ah, the running. Yes. April was spent preparing for the Sunderland Half on May 8th (review here) and I actually cracked out a decent training Half as prep for that. Sadly, that was as good as it got.

Since then, I seem to have developed some sort of aversion to miles 11-13 of Halfs. It just all goes to shit. I’m hoping to have ironed this out by the GNR in September.

The good news is, my new job is completely home based. I’ve set up the new office, and pride of place is my medal collection. That’s right, I’ve become one of those wankers.

Medal Wanker

One of the huge pluses from this change of routine is that I’m getting out every morning for a run. I’m also finding time to resurrect the Yoga. Namaste. It’s all rosey while the weather is so good, but I’m under no illusion that come October I’ll not be so perky at getting out the door with a Baltic wind and lashings of sleet.

I promised this would be brief, so I’ll shut up now. There are two draft blog posts kicking around and lined up when I can be arsed, and there’ll be the usual GNR review driffle.

Until then though, get off my property before I release the hounds.

Sunderland City Half Marathon 2022: The Sequel

notbuilttorun, , 1 Comment

“You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy. We must be cautious”

Obi-Wan Kenobi, Star Wars: A New Hope

Before we start, a disclaimer. I ran and wrote a review of this race back in the heavy days 2019, when masks were worn only by Surgeons and people rang into work sick with the throwaway expression of ‘the Flu’, when it was literally either a cold or a hangover. In it, I explained the rivalry between my city and this one and I would therefore be littering the post with lots of derogatory comments. All with my tongue firmly in cheek. In short: Bantz! Nothing has changed. This review of my revisit to the home of the serial Play Off Bottlers (Bantz!) will be no different.

Way back in the parallel universe of 2019, I ran this in a very pleasing 1:54:19. Anything sub-2 hours is a win for me. Sub 1:55 and I’m ecstatic. It was a pretty warm day as well and I’m not great in the heat. Or the wind. Or snow to be honest. I like calm and cloudy. Anyway, I liked this run a lot and signed up straight away for the next one. So, I was therefore originally down to run this in 2020.

I’m not sure if you remember 2020, it’s the year we all stayed indoors and everything got cancelled. My place was deferred to the 2021 event instead. No bother. Then, a few weeks beforehand, they announced the plans for the run – part of which would be that there would be no baggage area. Which was a massive pain in the arse, as I was travelling on public transport on my own from the proper City with a Cathedral (Bantz!) 10 miles up the road. When I enquired about a deferral or a refund, they said too late. So, I couldn’t run it and I was a bit annoyed with them to be honest. They blamed the City Council for it (probably true tbh) so I was out of pocket and not taking part.

However, seeing as I’m not an arsehole who holds grudges and Event organisers have had a hideous 2 years, I forgave them for keeping my 30 odd quid and signed up again for 2022. Sunday May the 8th 2022, to be exact.

Firstly, the logistics. In my review of the 2019 version of this run, I bared my soul and gave myself some free therapy by letting rip on the Tyne & Wear Metro (or the ’Fucking Metro’ as I call it). Despite my misgivings, it delivered on the day and got me to and from the Run with no issues whatsoever. An absolute fucking dream it was. But it was to have it’s revenge in 2022, it wasn’t going to be bastard on at all.

So, after some tough and thorough research (Google Maps and a bottle of Peroni) I found what looked like a pretty sound place to park on an Industrial estate about 15 minutes walk from the Start/Finish. So far, so good.

Then I get up on the morning of the run and…it’s sunny and warm. Not pissed up in Benidorm warm, but warm enough to make 13.1 miles more of a ball ache than it should be. I’ve mentioned in the past I’m not great in heat. It’s my North Sea genetics. My body isn’t happy unless it’s being smashed in the face with icy winds and sleet big enough to blind you. Not a great start.

I do however get parked no problem. I tool up with weapons to fend off the locals (Bantz!) and walk to the Start. On the way, I pass this place..

Snake Mountain

I make sure I tip toe around the Perimeter whilst crossing my fingers and spraying Holy Water (Bantz!). Actually, to be nice, it’s great to see that the 3rd Division of English Football has such nice Stadiums. I’m sure the Morecambe fans have plenty of leg room (Bantz!).

Where were we? Ah yes, Half Marathon. At the start it’s exactly the same drill as the last time. DJs talking shite, random stalls, a stack of portaloos, and the oh so predictable tribal groupings of Running Clubs. Bluh. I drop my baggage off (at the Peacock Pub again, interesting) and decided to stand in the shade for the 20 mins or so until we get going. The 10k is off first at 10am, and we’re due to start at 10:25am. And it’s def going to be a warm one. Bollocks.

I get into the Pen about 20 past and it certainly feels far more crowded than the last time I did this. If you’re one of these people still worried about COVID, then events like this really are going to test how much risk you’re going to take. Me, I’ve been pissing off to the match with 52,000 people every other week for the last year so I’m past caring. However, if you’re still a bit twitchy, this would send it into overdrive.

We eventually get going. I say eventually, it feels like we go off late (Strava would later confirm that we went off 4 minutes late) but as soon as we’re out it opens up with plenty of room. This is what I liked about the run the last time, there are only about 900 taking part. That’s about 60k less than the GNR so, you know, tonnes of space.

They’ve changed the route slightly, but as you can see from my Strava below, the first 9 miles are as random as before.

Nope. Me neither.

There are a couple of out and backs, which I personally hate. There is nothing more demoralising than knowing you’re going to just turn around and come back the same way at some point, especially when long before that turn Speedy McSpeedfuck from Gateshead Harriers goes hurtling past you at least a couple of miles ahead.

There are a couple of very noticeable changes though. We go through a nice park, bit of scenery we didn’t get at all on the first part of the run last time. Here is me in that Park bossing it like a bastard:

So far, so fat.

There also seems to be far more climbs than the last time. I’d remembered a couple of them, but there is definitely more. The heat makes you feel them all. Still, I’ve kept my pace fairly conservative and I’m doing ok. Feeling the heat, but not suffering especially. Sub 2 hours easily on.

After 9 miles of that, we’re out of the mean streets, over the Lego Bridge (Bantz!) and onto the last 4 miles of the pretty bit. The Riverside, Beach, the Native American Burial Ground of Roker Park (Bantz!) then back over the Duplo Bridge (Bantz!) again.

And this is where it starts to unravel.

You wouldn’t think it as we hit 10 miles on the Riverside. Look at me, two thumbs up, grinning like a simpleton, not a care in the world.

Dying inside

I get onto the Sea Front and suddenly I feel like the heat has got to me. For the first time in a long time I feel my energy levels on a run just drop, and I’m no longer comfortable. It’s going to be a slog. And it was.

I climb into the Park I cannot name (Bantz!) and it really is hitting me now. I keep going, but I really am slowing down now. The only good news is, it feels like everyone else is struggling as well. I’m a middle of the packer currently in with other middle of the packers and we’re all feeling it. I really, really struggle on the long road back along the top of the Sea Front to the Bridge. It’s awful. Probably the worst I’ve ever felt finishing a Half. It’s come from nowhere as well, and I can only really put it down to the heat. Or possibly the fat.

Still, I activate the jets for the crowds at the Finish and come home in 1:57:42, finishing a nice middle of the packer 438th. To empahsise just how appalling my last few miles were, my last 2 mile was all over 9 min mile pace. That’s well below par for me. Last time I ran this I did it 3 and half minutes quicker. I was on for that again, until it all fell apart. Remember kids, you have to run all 13.1 miles.

Witness the shitness

So, we’ll put this one down as a ’Meh’ I think, by my standards. I struggled in the heat and fell away poorly in the last 5k, but it was still a sub 2 hour Half and yet again a well organised and enjoyable run. If it had been 10 miles.

Well done Sunderland again though. I write this the day before they’re due at Wembley in the Play Off Finals. I do wish them a sincere good luck and hopefully I’ll return next year and pass a 2nd Division Stadium. BANTZ!

Back to the drawing board, it’ll soon be GNR time…

It’s the Quarter 1 Update

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“I’m washing lettuce. Soon, I’ll be on fries. In a few years, I’ll make assistant manager, and that’s when the big bucks start rolling in.”

Maurice – Coming to America

Back in January, I wrote my usual yawnfest about my goals for the New Year (read it again here) I think the best way to summarise it was that it was equal parts full of hope and full of shit. However, the first point on the list of dreams and aspirations was ‘update the notbuilttorun website a lot more.’ So, here we are. Erm. Tell you what, let’s have a recap of the first 3 months of the year shall we? Go on then.

It’s fair to say that 2022 started better than 2021. For a start, we weren’t in Lockdown, even though you could argue the toss that maybe we should have been. It depends which side of the COVD fence you sit on. I’ll not get into that debate on here, everyone has widely different views on it and I’d only upset someone. Between the Conspiracies about the Vaccine making you ping 5g or obey the commands of Bill Gates, to those with PTSD who are still petrified to catch it, the whole thing is a clusterfuck that will take years to get over. Bet that’s cheered you up.

I started Jan with my usual run everyday mantra. I have to confess, it was a bit of a slog this year. I was coming off the back of being ill at Christmas (not the PannyD) so wasn’t exactly feeling footloose and fancy. We also had some absolute literal shit storms in January and my running Kryptonite is the bastard wind. And boy was it windy. Along with my grumbling Achilles, I think it’s fair to say I limped through this years RED. Still, I did it, and managed to clock up 113 miles, which was only 9 short of 2021. All things considered, that’s a win.

As I type (early April) I’m sitting on 324 miles for the year. At current rate that would give me – counts on fingers – 1,245 miles by the end of the year. So the 1,000 goal is currently on with 200 in change. The running in general is also going quite well. After my illness at Christmas (because I was ill, not sure if I’ve mentioned it) my January was full of lots of 5 to 10k middly runs, nothing ‘big.’ However, since Feb I’ve upped the milage and my weekend double figure runs are now back and going well. My pace is also fairly decent. I’m not going to PB anything, but at least I don’t seem to be slowing down. Yet. Running at Par I suppose you could call it.

With that it mind, I decided to sign up for the S*nderland (Bantz!) City Half Marathon on the 8th of May. Training is going well – I did a 1 hour 44 min 12 miler last week so the sub-2 hour is def still in the legs. By the looks of it, they seem to have changed the course slightly this year. They’ve added in a Park at the 5k mark, seemingly to make it more ‘scenic’, but the final part of dropping into the Marina and then climbing back up through Joker (Bantz!) Park to the finish remains intact. It’s a good run with only about 1,000 runners so plenty of room to get about and clock a decent time. If we get a calm cloudy day I’ll be over the moon. I’ll review it on here not long after. Or at Christmas knowing me.

One thing that has changed is Zwift. I’ve been doing Zwift for a year now and I’ve quite enjoyed it. It’s a added a bit of excitement (steady) to my treadmill runs which, let’s face it, can be dull as dishwater. In Feb however it all started to go tits up. The pod would drop during a run, so my steady 7mph pace would suddenly go to 6mph or lower, even though I was going hell for leather. Fair enough I thought, it probably just needs a new battery. I change it. Still crap. So then I decide to go through the Calibration. Still crap. So as we stand, we’re at an impasse. You might say ‘well, what’s the problem dickhead?’ It is a little bit of a First World Problem granted, but getting on the Treadmill is hard enough motivation already without knowing you’re going to be running further/faster than the Zwift says. So anyway, we’ve fallen out.

As for work and life, it’s going to be all change. I’m going full on Corporate Bastard having been tapped up by an International company and will be working totally remote from June. Which, I’m hoping, will only help my running. No commute at either the start or end of the day should give me more hours to play with to squeeze in a run without pissing off the rest of the family. I might even have time to get some extra miles in. It’s all good in the hood anyway.

So in summary, we can tick off Quarter 1 as a fairly profitable period. Satisfactory at worst. Apart from the Zwift Pod acting the dick.

See you in May for the Half Marathon review.

Run safe.

The Running Man

notbuilttorun, , 2 Comments

– He wasn’t very old.

– No, he was pretty old. He was 41.

– Oh yeah? Oh, that’s old.

David and Jennifer, Wargames

It’s a great film, Wargames, if you haven’t seen it. It’s about a young High School kid who manages to hack into the US Defence system and accidently nearly start World War III. That’s an amazing feat when you look at the archaic hunk of shite home computer he’s using. More technology in a phone these days. I know I’m not really selling this well, but it’s got Ally Sheedy in it and we all need lots of Ally Sheedy.

Get on with it. Ok, there was a point. I loved this film as a kid, and apart from the accidently declaring Nuclear War on the Russians, it’s really a film about the young flicking their Vs up at the set-in-their-ways-think-they-know-best older generation. I used to laugh at that line about 41, but in a ‘yeah, what a bunch of old twats’ kind of way.

And now I’m 41.

And I think the 2020s 41 is very different to the 1980s 41. My Mam had a perm at 41 that made her look about 60. I think most people’s Mams in the 80s did. 41 is no longer ‘old’. They used to say life begins at 40. Try saying that to my Grandad who’d been down a pit for 20 odd years by that point, and only lived another 20 years. I don’t think the phrase has ever really been true until the last couple of decades. There are so many opportunities to be healthier, exercise, and live longer. Although, I’ve told my wife that if I’m proper knackered just unplug me.

So, 41 isn’t old. I love you Ally Sheedy and I always will. Maybe not as much as Phillpa Forrester, but you’re still wrong. Therefore, this 41 year olds goals are…

2022 Goals

  • Update the notbuilttorun website a lot more – Haha, unlucky suckers. I’ve noticed though, I tend to go through a flurry of updates at the very start of the year and then the very end. So really, update it more consistently.
  • Run Every Day (RED) in January – We’re not as lockdown tastic as we were last year, so life might get in the way. However, I’m currently 14 days in and apart from my grumbling Achilles (standard) we’re well on track. Until said Achilles pings.
  • Run 1,000 miles – 3 years running I’ve hit this, the last year with 200 miles in change. As long as I avoid injury and illness, I should hopefully hit this again. At my current rate, I’m projected 1,144 which I’d take all day long and then some.
  • Get a PB – I didn’t get any ‘outside’ PBs last year, but still managed some Zwift/Treadmill ones. My find the need for speed on the Treadmill and get some inny ones. I’m also counting Strava Segment PBs, so surely there will be one in there somewhere? (Spoiler Alert – I’ve hit some in the first 14 days)
  • Run a Half Marathon – Of course I’m in the GNR September, Number 11, and it’s back to it’s original course. As an aside, if it is back to it’s usual format, this will be the moment I decide life is back to ‘normal’. The Sunderland Half is on the 8th May. It’s tempting.
  • Run longer than 13.1 miles – I tried this last year, I didn’t do it. There is no fail, only try. I failed to try though. The goal is still to get to 16 miles by the end of the year. My thought is to attempt it after one of my Halfs, while I’m still in ‘the Zone’. Whatever zone that might be.
  • 300 miles on Zwift- Ah Zwift. I’m not sick of it. Yet. March to Dec 2021 I logged around 300 miles. That seems like a good and achievable number to aim for. We like achievable stuff, it brings balance to the force caused by the probable failure of the goal above..
  • Run on Holiday – I’m supposed to be in sunny Menorca in May, a holiday now 2 years overdue cos of some global pandemic or something. Like a sad sack, I’m taking my gear for a bit of Balearic sea breeze and beer sweating.
  • Remain in Employment – People to feed, bills to pay, trainers to buy.
  • Avoid catching/passing on COVID – Get super boosted. Wear a mask rat lickers.

Piece. Of. Piss.

I hope everyone’s 2022, running or personal, goes as planned. Or a good unplanned at least.

Remember, 41 isn’t that old. But if you see me in a nightclub at 2am, you have permission to shoot me.