The Loneliness of the Long Distance Running Man
Ever since I returned to Adelaide in 2000 I've been telling people I'm going to run the City to Bay in less than an hour. That means running at at least 12kph for, well, one hour.
I've had two tilts at it, the last being maybe four years ago, and the goal still stands. My training regime then was less than ideal though. As the days counted down I kept revising my fitness plan until it became a 4k run today, tomorrow off, then 6k on Friday and the race on Sunday. Of that attempt I can only say that I managed to run, Cliff Young style, the whole way; and that there is no shame in being overtaken by female walkers who started 1/2 an hour after me.
Things are going to be different this time.
God knows we can't afford it, but we bought a treadmill a few weeks ago (what would Peter Singer think?) and nearly every second day I've been firing it up and pounding out the days frustrations; after the frustrations have been put to their respective bed and crib.
I used to be a treadmill cynic. When I lived in the Territory I used to run regularly on bush tracks. Those tracks provided privacy for my red-faced endeavours, fantastic scenery and the odd adrenalin burst when I encountered a snake or a water buffalo. The hard straight lines of the suburbs are comparatively dull and I hate having to straighten up, hold my breath and pick up the pace every time I pass a pedestrian or fellow jogger. Pride does indeed come before the infarction. Anyway that, and the control a treadmill provides, made me agree to the purchase (although my agreement was purely decorative) when Knickers suggested it as a means for a post baby fitness kick.
I'm alternating a slow one hour run with a faster paced interval run for between twenty and thirty minutes and making some improvement in my fitness. The best I've managed is 11k in an hour, so Istill have to squeeze in an extra k somewhere over the next four weeks.
While the fitness is improving, the ageing body is packing up. I had to run for the train this morning and the pain in my cold knees and ankles was near crippling. I fear one of these days I will find out that stretching before and after exercise is not just another lie brought to us by the 'don't eat and swim' people.
I used to be a treadmill cynic. When I lived in the Territory I used to run regularly on bush tracks. Those tracks provided privacy for my red-faced endeavours, fantastic scenery and the odd adrenalin burst when I encountered a snake or a water buffalo. The hard straight lines of the suburbs are comparatively dull and I hate having to straighten up, hold my breath and pick up the pace every time I pass a pedestrian or fellow jogger. Pride does indeed come before the infarction. Anyway that, and the control a treadmill provides, made me agree to the purchase (although my agreement was purely decorative) when Knickers suggested it as a means for a post baby fitness kick.
I'm alternating a slow one hour run with a faster paced interval run for between twenty and thirty minutes and making some improvement in my fitness. The best I've managed is 11k in an hour, so Istill have to squeeze in an extra k somewhere over the next four weeks.
While the fitness is improving, the ageing body is packing up. I had to run for the train this morning and the pain in my cold knees and ankles was near crippling. I fear one of these days I will find out that stretching before and after exercise is not just another lie brought to us by the 'don't eat and swim' people.
Labels: Exercise
posted by myninjacockle @ 9:38 PM
3 Comments
3 Comments:
I swear you and Audrey have the same post.
I love the "decorative agreement". I shall steal this line forever.
And me, too. I only succumbed to the treadmill about two months ago, buying it from a friend who had used it for a few weeks before deciding that it was more convenient to hang damp washing from the side bars.
It was easier than getting up at 6am and running in the dark with a snoticle from my nostrils and - as you said - struggling to keep in teh infarctions when overtaking gabbing powerwalkers, fellow joggers or workers. Night time was even worse - traffic fumes, having to stop and start at lights, stumble on crooked footpaths.... and that's only if I didn't talk myself out of doing it at all.
You'll crack the hour - I did 64 minutes in 2003 and 58 in 2004. I'm going in again this year but not sure if I"m walking with a mate as a Cora Barclay Fundraiser or trying to crack the hour again on my own.
Trouble is, the f**king thing packed up last week. Love Chunks has tried everything he can to fix it (even reading the manual) and no-one in Adelaide fixes treadies that they didn't sell themselves and/or have never heard the brand name of (Genki, in my case). My mate bought it off e-bay, so it's virtually dead.
Trouble is, the exercise bike and weights languishing next to the dead treadie in the shed just don't do it for me. I love running, especially in the privacy of my own shed where I can wail all I like to the iPod without fear of being ridiculed.
Can you give me some tips as to how Knickers achieves your 'decorative agreement' because I want to march up to LC (when he gets in from Melbourne tonight) and say, "Stuff it, let's get a new one and make it from Adelaide and get some repair condition thingy added in. $2500 should cover it...."
Wish me luck.
PS - you're way better than Audrey. Her last column in teh Sunday Fail was dismal.... has her mojo run out?
Hmm, great minds think alike or small minds never differ?
Kath - try demanding the money back from your friend, but if the friendship is one you wish to maintain - and you can convince LC to open the trust fund - we bought ours for $1290 from (I think) Be Fit on South Rd at Melrose Park.
I did a reasonably extensive search on the net and ours has all the standard features; 2hp motor, large track, 18k top speed, 12degree incline and good warranty.
I could say that I deny Knickers nothing since she has borne our children, but that was pretty much the case before hand. Perhaps you should speak to her? Or go by the the philosophy that it is easier to seek forgiveness than permission.
Good luck.
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