What would you do with an extra day?

Imagine you're on your death bed. It can be any time of your life, you could be really old and healthy or young and doing coke in a fast car if that's your thing. But a genie in a bottle or some other divine being, offers you one more day before you die! What would you do? You'd take it probably, even if it was to extend the very thing you were doing when death and the genie descended. But most probably you'd take it and do something amazing, emotional and special.

Today, you had one more day. Yep it's just a leap year and we get one of those every four years. But doesn't that make you think a little? What did you do today that was so special? Or as in the word's of one of my favourite and life changing adverts says, will you remember today forever?

As someone who got into running as a way of enduring the death of friends, I am inspired by those who tackle sporting events as a way of facing death. From Jane Tomlinson to Jon Blais we are reminded of people who tackle marathons, ironman and other challenges to raise awareness of issues but also to go down fighting. Yes it is cruel that people like them are taken from life early, leaving behind devastated loved ones. But look at what they did with their death sentence, they turned it into a life sentence.

This morning, as I tweeted my messages for people to "be all they can be", and "make today count" (popular hashtags, not just my corny lines) I noticed someone (joking?) that today was an extra day of the year, and therefore not one they were paid for. But I was pleased to see so many more people doing something amazing with their day, from the RunDemCrew youngers bouncing through the streets, to the chap taking the day off work for Jogle training, another volunteering in a service for homeless people.

The clock is ticking on February 29th as I write this, but I won't let the clock tick down as me. And I hope, that if you're reading this, you might remember this day forever and live all your future days as "the extra one."

It's Wednesday so that must be Ironman

Yesterday three Ironman training guides seemed to have made their way into my Amazon order. I blame Chrissie Wellington and the Amazon One Click service. Don Fink's Iron Fit has made it into my commute bag and with the Jubilee and Met lines being down on my last three commutes, I've had ample reading time.

Mr Fink recommends getting a calendar right now and putting training dates in. (He has little active challenges peppered through the book to get you doing stuff). So as soon as I got home, I made a little month by month excel calendar through to the end of 2013 and I started collecting Ironman dates for 2012 as a rough guide. Hey, it's just a paper exercise right? Then I notice that Lanzarote (my preferred warm, cheap racing destination) has races in May near my birthday and lo and behold my 38th birthday weekend would be holding an IronMan. So despite this being a really hard course, with hills and hot winds, it goes into the spreadsheet. As does 30 weeks of training, a week of acclimatisation to training, two weeks of mock training (to get discipline) and one month of get fit for fun. Then I add one month of Lanzarote acclimatisation, two training camps and before you know it, I have to start training in September this year. Which makes me think that London Triathlon looks jolly sensible especially as you can hire a bike for the training season for only £110! I know. Unfortunately it's all sold out so that's not happening.

But anyway, there's my year and half of next year mapped out. I then plotted the Wall Run (TBC) and Davos (distance to be chosen), the Sarsens marathon which I stumbled upon and decided to enter and my swimming lessons (still to be found). I also put a cost column including a bike but let's not talk of such foul things like money. These are dreams and dreams don't have price tags!

At no point have I questioned the sanity of doing these things. I mean we can do anything we put our mind to right? Wonder what Thursday will bring?

Learning from Chrissie Wellington

Part two in the Rowena Meets Chrissie Wellington Adventures. The scene is a nondescript university auditorium. Our protagonist is joined by American Eddie from TriOnline and Canadian Tara, a marathon runner. The three non Brits intrepidly have made their own way to the auditorium to seek lunch and Chrissie...

Chrissie is due to give a presentation and while the lovely folk from Janes Appeal set this up, Chrissie patiently and personally signs people's copies of her new autobiography. In the queue, Tara and I learn that we both tear up watching inspirational sporting videos, such as the trailer for Spirit of the Marathon and Julie Moss finishing Iron Man. (Both of these are linked under HardCore Running stuff on the nav bar to your right. Enrich your lives people.) We also start thinking about what we are going to say to Chrissie, how to tell her to spell our names, how to take photos. I manage to keep a sense of perspective by suggesting to Tara that getting her sneakers autographed is a little weird. I try to take pics while Tara gets her stuff signed, and Tara goes in for a fabulous Chrissie hug. I'd laugh but I am too busy being nervous around the woman who has just told me about her weak glute. Chrissie remembers me (I am astounded) and then writes the above message in my book. She has met a hundred people today but remembers I ran an ultra and that I want to do an ironman before I am 40. She seals the fate by writing it in my book. When Tara and I return to our seats we are a heaving mass of hysteria.

Here's some random stuff I picked up from Chrissie's well delivered and entertaining talk:

1) Chrissie is rubbish with powerpoint. Really. How she survived a career in government with those IT skills is beyond me!

2) Chrissie has The Circle of Life, from Lion King, on her playlist. This only goes to encourage the kind of cheesy music I have on mine!

3) Triathlon is one sport not three. If you want to improve your run, you have to look at what your bike set up is doing.

4) Chrissie is pretty damn smart. Jokes about Defra employees aside, she can deconstruct a cultural construct quicker than you can say "gender perspective".

5) She really wants to pay it forward and give it back. I do hope she returns to development one day, or gets to meet some of the great community focussed NGOs delivering far better impact than DFID's programmes do.

6) I already sleep like an Ironman (1030 to bed, 0630 to rise)

7) She can tear up talking about things that are important to her.

8) She recognises the need for everyone from the media, the athletes and the governing bodies to do more to package ironman better if we want to make it a mainstream sport.

9) You don't need the most expensive or even a great bike to win (but unless you're very talented it does help)

10) Strength work and conditioning can really help boost your results.

They say you should never meet your idols: well I say it depends who your idols are. David Suzuki, Mo Farah and Chrissie Wellington - they have not let me down. Down to earth, personal and inspiring, meeting Chrissie confirms that your idols are more amazing once you've met them.

Meeting Chrissie Wellington

You know how much I talked about Mo Farah after I got to run with him? That was nothing compared to how much I have talked about Chrissie Wellington. The last two days have been nothing but "Chrissie said this" and "When I was with Chrissie"...

For those of you who don't know who Chrissie is (yes there are some none runners reading this blog; I call you stalkers), Chrissie is the four time Ironman World Champion. I know she is British and I should be a Rinnie Carfrae fan but Chrissie is a legend for many reasons:

1) She only started the sport five years ago

2) She is a self confessed muppet

3) She is unbeatable, even when she's coming from way behind and covered in gravel rash.

Chrissie is a Patron of Jane's Appeal (Jane Tomlinson, cancer fighter, wife, mother and achiever extraordinaire) who organised Run with Chrissie, a chance to run a 5km through the allegedly tick-infested forests of Richmond Park, train with her and hear her speak. I'd not thought about the physical effort required for the day too much - it was scheduled to take place only 7 days after a small 53km run, but the day was to completely wipe me out.

So I'm off before dawn to go see her and despite train issues arrive early (thanks google maps for showing Roehampton Gate as being in Kent). Awaiting her arrival, I notice there's an awful lot of ridiculously kitted up City boys in Equipe style lycra, including retro hats and very expensive machinery. I try really hard not to giggle when they stop for a soy latte, but fail.

Being mostly Londoners, we do that thing where we all stand around on our own not making eye contact with anyone and standing a safe 6 feet apart, until Chrissie arrives, all smiles and we all move in a little, awe struck and trying not to stare but failing. Chrissie is laughing and joking with people she knows and wearing the most coolarse compression socks I've ever seen (black, mid calf with green, yellow, red and purple stripes). She looks so good in them I would have bought five pairs there and then, and it's a good thing there was no shop in the area because my calf muscles and Chrissie's calves (sp) are not comparable things. She swapped shirts and I was all geeky and going - look at that six pack and then started photographing her Kona 2011 scars before the police stopped me (I joke about the police, but am afraid the rest is true).

Chrissie makes jokes about lyme disease and I am already fawning: "oh my god she's so funny". And then we're off being escorted on a wee run through the park. I started for a second near Chrissie but was quickly passed by everyone, and I mean everyone in the field. I should have known when they said "sub 30 or sub 20". I'm a distance runner people, and a long slow recovering one at that. I'm sub 30 on a good day. Today is not a good day. Anyway I determinedly continued and got a bit of mojo on a downhill home straight to finish a trio of girls who sportingly were helping a recovering runner get Back. Clearly, I am not sporting.

Let's be honest, I was knackered after that: legs of lead and all that. So I went a scoffed a protein bar (I'd be hungry since the train!) and swigged a load of water. This would have been sensible if not for some British Military Fitness style Ross Kemp lookalike deciding we should do burpees. Excuse me sir while I vomit on your shoes. Those who know me know:

1) I don't tolerate the British Military

2) I don't believe in the concept of British Military Fitness

3) If a man tells me to give him ten of the best, I will do so via finger gestures.

But it being for charity, I pretended to go along with everything and found refuge in a nice girl who had won a prize to be there and like me, didn't need a bald man in camouflage to point out how unfit we were. After 30 minutes of rolling in mud and performing an exercise called "morning darling" that I'd normally reserve for a gynaecologist, we moved to a session on cadence and finally a session WITH CHRISSIE on running drills.

The session was running drills was expertly run by Karen and I learnt that I must be able to hold a credit card between my butt cheeks while running (for glute strength, not for lack of pockets). But that is all I can tell you about that session because I did these drills with Chrissie. No, sorry WITH CHRISSIE!

She and I joked about glutes and lazy glutes. She remembered me from running past on my ultra training round Uxbridge canals! She remembered my tweets. I was so uncool about it I almost foamed at the mouth! She congratulated me on the ultra. I told her I wanted to do ironman before I was 40. She thought I was way younger. I heart her. She recommended Austria or Copenhagen. She also writes "smile" on her hand! She spoke to other people too and was really nice and encouraging. But she spoke to me! ME!

Well that's probably enough excitement for one blog post no? I'm going to do a separate one about her talk and the sport related things I learned but just reliving that moment means I need a lie down!

Chrissie. Chrissie Wellington. And me.

Pics here.

Post ultra reflections

Okay so you know how I finished London Ultra and said I would never run again. Ever. Well that was Sunday and Monday morning.

And then by Tuesday morning, with the body feeling fine, I seemed to have forgotten the pain that existed in every fibre of my body.

But these are some things I have to learn or want to incorporate in my running:

1. Life first, then running: I put a lot of things on hold to train, mostly because I had a much shorter training plan than I would have liked. So I'd like running to be part of my life but not something that everything has to stop for.

2. Maintaining a level of running ability. The last three years, I trained for a marathon, crawled over the finish line and never ran again. This time I am not going to do that.

3. Less canals, more hills. Hills happen. I need to get over them.

4. More trails. Running in nature makes me happy - there's so much to look at. Farewell Edgeware Rd to Colindale.

So now I just need to work out, when to start running again and how much. I tried 3km the other day and ended up with 2.8km of slow motion like a lead robot! I'm running 5km with Chrissie Wellington tomorrow. At least I'll be smiling for that!

Aftermath

So I finished the Ultra - but in what condition?

Nothing I'd call an injury. My hips, specifically my hip flexors, hurt like crazy. They were the thing that held me back on those last and unnecessary kilometres. I hadn't experienced this before and figured it was from the hills.

I'd been craving salt (yes I even licked some off my arm at some point) and my toes were cramping, again a new experience. I'd fuelled ok, hydrated well and couldn't complain really.

But yes - everything hurt. Every single thing hurt. And it was going to hurt much more!

There was a half mile walk to the train station, and I didn't have enough warm clothes or spirit for a quick walk.

And I can tell you that I never wanted to do a long run again, not a marathon not a 50km - nothing. I felt broken in spirit and body and mind.

The next day everything below my ears hurt! My neck and back hurt from where my core packed it in, and I had huddled over my self,. My right foot, hip and knee was sore and the inflammation around the knee from my IT band was severe. I still didn't want to run distance again but I felt that I had lots to learn before tackling this kind of event again like hill running and trail running.

But by today (Tuesday) I'm feeling ready to run again, thanks to some ice packs, cold water showering and a good two hours of acupuncture, pilates and osteo. And I'm ready to start looking at what distance I might do in Davos...

London Ultra race report

And we're off, running through suburbia, confusing old ladies trying to parallel park and adjusting hip belts, drink bottles, pants. I followed the pack at a comfortable pace until we hit a stile (really) in the second km and we all had to queue, pass in single file then make our way up a railway platform!

Kms 3 -5 felt pretty good and I was a bit surprised to check my watch and find I was averaging 5:30 to 6 per km - I had planned to run 6:30/km at the beginning to play it really safe. The roads were quite undulating so I figured that I was slowing down enough.

The hills started to bite at km6 but by km8 we had a new obstacle: a subway full of cold dark water that was above ankle height to navigate, though some tried to find a way around the train tracks - the best way was through the water.

The first checkpoint was just under 10kms in, so I just grabbed a drink and some frozen snickers bar to hold in my hand till they melted! At some point we meandered on a trail and I thought "this is nice, come into your own". I note this now because I never felt this moment ever again in the race! I found the run very mentally taxing as you were always thinking of the route, where to put your foot in the terrain and so forth that my one strength, mental toughness, was unable to be used as much as I hoped. Luckily I had the word "smile" written on my hand in big letters and whenever I saw it, I did!

The next ten kms were very hilly around Norwood and Crystal Palace. A friend was trying to cheer me on but kept missing me, and I really felt like I could do with a lift. Fellow competitor who I know now as Claire Z, in her vibram 5fingers, came storming down a hill, making it look all easy and relaxed and I was very envious, but not as envious when a friend met her and ran with her some of the way.

Another checkpoint emerged at 20km, just next to an ambulance for a fallen senior, and stocked with more snickers as well as fabulous licorice allsorts. I stopped this time to drink water properly (ie not pour it all over me) as did a number of other runners, all gasping and saying "hills" as they came to a stop. They could have also said "giant squirrel" and "dinosaurs" - it was surreal running through Crystal Palace Park.

I was pleased that on some of the epic hills, other people were walking, and there seemed to be a bit of rhythm, as one person at the front walked, so we did further down the line. The same was pretty true for navigation, a lot of people were following the person in front or keeping people in their sightline as the route constantly turned corners.

The terrain was a mix of suburban streets - including road crossings, and boy do I love a red light now! - trails, parks, funny steps uphills, hillsides, railway platforms, bar terraces - you name it!

When we entered Wimbledon Park (30km) I realised my friend said she would spectate with her family, and all I could think about on entering the park was that she was in there somewhere. Park maintenance meant it wasn't quite clear where and I ran about a bit looking for signs until I recognised my friends watching and whooped and jumped with joy. Nothing like a baby cuddle for an uplift! The man at the checkpoint was lovely and motivating despite having about 11 miles to go and not having red sauce to go with the delicious cold sausage rolls. I used my friends to help with putting cold strips on my feet; the man at checkpoint took one look and offered first aid but it was just a bit of inflammation and a few dramatic capillaries. As I spent a bit of time there, I'd lost the regulars I was following and had to rely on my own ability to sport the green Capital Ring signs and what direction the level skewed arrows were really pointing at.

Richmond Park came sooner than I thought and I recognised a silhouetted figure against a fast bike as another of my private cheer squad; I was truly spoilt. Andy pointed out the actual route that no one else was following, which gave me quite an advantage as I didn't stop to get lost. The going at Richmond felt tough, with lots of undulating terrain and no deer.

I don't remember much after this except a long and lonely run along the water at Richmond, where I came upon the American Jacob looking really lost with the whole scenic rambling concept and helped him find the way over the bridge back to the hallowed ground North of the Thames and to the fourth and final checkpoint. I treated myself to an already opened can of coke and stuffed as many sausage rolls as possible into my cheeks like a hamster. It was only ten km to go at this point. Ten. Ten km! I dug out my ipod, to get into the zone as there was not many people in sight in front and Jacob seemed to be lagging. The navigation got tough, with the signs pointing along bar terraces (where I tripped), through car parks and garden centres; you name it. Once we were back on canals - the same surfaces I had been training on, my spirits lifted, and I started to give my Mo Farah Kick!

But disaster struck! Ok a small calamity. There was most definitely a London Ultra sticker pointing to a trail, but the trail was most definitely barred by a fence and a sign saying "no access, by order of the police" Mark F who had already got lost earlier on, ran ahead, and didn't think we were going the right way if we were to get onto the canal branch to finish. So Claire, Mark, myself and John (who had been swapping places with me from the start) squeezed through the fence, running through a good stretch of lumpy soamy clay before squeezing through another fence. Yes it's as hard to run in as it sounds. We all plodded off separately but together checking in when we weren't sure of the route. Once in one of those little parks we kept running through, the Capital Ring signs went right, and Mark felt we should go left. I was happy to stick with the signs and said as much. For some reason these poor people followed me and I think they decided it was the wrong decision. We ended up off route but at least with a location we could find on the map and work out the way back.

Unfortunately the way back involved a long slope uphill that seemed to continue on forever. We had passed 50km, Claire and Mark had padded off strong into the distance (hope they weren't mad for following me?) and John and I started to walk intersperse with a brief bit of jogging. John's Garmin beeped 50, and I confessed I had nothing left. As we emerged onto the final road before the sports track finish, Rita, an older modest looking woman came pounding past from the right path and strode off to the finish line. John and I were spent. We had intermittent coverage behind trees shielding us from the folk at the finish and we walked until we were in plain sight of the finish line, 53kms, 6 hours 48 minutes and 5 second later.

Pics here