Last week was Mum's highest mileage week so far, and with only four weeks to go until Manchester Marathon it may well be the highest of the lot. Mum ran 56 and a half miles last week. She said the half is important and she refuses to be cheated out of it by any rounding down. Mum says last week was all about slog and time on her feet, and this week she hopes will be about a mix of rest, good quality shorter runs, and then a 20 mile race on Sunday.
Mum is also grumpy, full of cold, and would quite like it to stop being windy now. She has, however, continued to feel much better on her new medication and has been in significantly less discomfort. She was especially pleased to manage a couple of uninterrupted long runs.
So, what was Mum up to? Well, Mum had a good go at finishing herself off yesterday pulling what she herself admits was a "bloody stupid stunt". But first, she did some good training.
Mum didn't do a very long run last week, instead she did three runs over 10 miles, plus a few extra bits. Thursday she set out to do fifteen miles including a hilly half marathon distance at her target marathon pace. Mum said she figured if she could do that on dog tired legs in 40-50 mph winds she may have a decent chance of running a flat marathon at that pace on fresh legs in more clement conditions. I do not understand the phrase "dog tired legs". My legs are literally never too tired to run, or jump, or crash into things at high speed. It's a silly saying. I wuffed at Mum to tell her so. Mum did her run.
Saturday wasn't a quick run day but Mum likes to go to parkrun, so she did seven miles with a parkrun in the middle. Mum said the weather Gods hate her. She got dressed while it was blowing a gale and raining so much I had to do my morning poo in the hall. She did a three mile pre-parkrun run in glorious sunshine while "sweating like a pig", and then stripped right down to the bare decent minimum to do parkrun. At this point the heavens opened, the wind howled back up, and Mum got soaked to the skin and froze. She was unimpressed. Also a lovely combination of salty, soggy, muddy, and too cold to take her trainers off. I wonder if that's what they had in mind when they came up with the phrase "Yummy Mummy"? Mum says probably not.
That just left Sunday, and Sunday was my important Mum run of the week because we had a deal. Mum promised that if I managed to get our fundraising total over £900 she would forgo her league points and wear her Vizsla Rescue top on her 10 mile run to her race and for her race. Wuff wuff, a gorgeous ginger doggy and a very good cause to raise awareness of, how could she have considered anything else? Mum had reluctantly agreed and the lovely ginger community helped me out with their massive generosity ensuring Mum would be going out dressed properly.
On Sunday morning Mum woke up to a streaming cold, howling two legged pups, and snow. Mum normally likes snow but this was soggy nasty stuff which soon turned to sleet, hail, and pouring rain. I licked Mum as she got ready, she really didn't look happy, in fact when the two legged pups started fighting Mum got quite cross and declared herself "a complete wreck". Then she reminded herself of Rule 5 and got on with it. While getting on with it Mum also got distracted and although we didn't realise it until later Mum forgot to take all her medication.
Mum ran 10 miles to her race, all into the wind, rain, sleet, and ice. She was already knackered and hadn't planned to do more than a gentle trot, with the aim of running the race at her target marathon pace at the end. The trot there was apparently horrendous. I like running in the wind, but I don't always like to run into it because it does strange things to my ears and it's hard work. Mum doesn't like running in the wind ever which is odd as her ears don't blow around at all. She said running 10 miles into it was utterly miserable. Mum got to the race feeling very poorly, but adamant she was going to run it anyway, and she did. Once the race started Mum was briefly hopeful of actually getting through it at well under her target pace. Then the whole thing went suddenly and unexpectedly cross country and Mum spent two miles wading through mud in lightweight road shoes and using very bad words.
Mum was the muddiest I've ever seen her when she got home, and when I forgot I'm not meant to jump and jumped up to tell her how happy I was to see her the mud went literally all over the place. Mum had brought me mud, oddles of it, dry mud, wet mum, stinky mud, it was fab. When she collapsed in the sun with me she didn't even mind me eating her race number, and that's a strict "no" under normal circumstances.
Mum ended up a smidge over her target pace and feeling awful, but then realised later she'd forgotten to take her tablets which at least made how bad she felt make sense. Mum and I are both very cross at her for being so silly. Mum admitted that in the conditions and having forgotten among other things blood pressure medication, she was lucky not to end up collapsed by the side of a road somewhere with hypothermia. She has promised to be more careful. She has also promised to get some rest.
Silly Mum.
Mum is also grumpy, full of cold, and would quite like it to stop being windy now. She has, however, continued to feel much better on her new medication and has been in significantly less discomfort. She was especially pleased to manage a couple of uninterrupted long runs.
So, what was Mum up to? Well, Mum had a good go at finishing herself off yesterday pulling what she herself admits was a "bloody stupid stunt". But first, she did some good training.
Mum didn't do a very long run last week, instead she did three runs over 10 miles, plus a few extra bits. Thursday she set out to do fifteen miles including a hilly half marathon distance at her target marathon pace. Mum said she figured if she could do that on dog tired legs in 40-50 mph winds she may have a decent chance of running a flat marathon at that pace on fresh legs in more clement conditions. I do not understand the phrase "dog tired legs". My legs are literally never too tired to run, or jump, or crash into things at high speed. It's a silly saying. I wuffed at Mum to tell her so. Mum did her run.
Saturday wasn't a quick run day but Mum likes to go to parkrun, so she did seven miles with a parkrun in the middle. Mum said the weather Gods hate her. She got dressed while it was blowing a gale and raining so much I had to do my morning poo in the hall. She did a three mile pre-parkrun run in glorious sunshine while "sweating like a pig", and then stripped right down to the bare decent minimum to do parkrun. At this point the heavens opened, the wind howled back up, and Mum got soaked to the skin and froze. She was unimpressed. Also a lovely combination of salty, soggy, muddy, and too cold to take her trainers off. I wonder if that's what they had in mind when they came up with the phrase "Yummy Mummy"? Mum says probably not.
That just left Sunday, and Sunday was my important Mum run of the week because we had a deal. Mum promised that if I managed to get our fundraising total over £900 she would forgo her league points and wear her Vizsla Rescue top on her 10 mile run to her race and for her race. Wuff wuff, a gorgeous ginger doggy and a very good cause to raise awareness of, how could she have considered anything else? Mum had reluctantly agreed and the lovely ginger community helped me out with their massive generosity ensuring Mum would be going out dressed properly.
On Sunday morning Mum woke up to a streaming cold, howling two legged pups, and snow. Mum normally likes snow but this was soggy nasty stuff which soon turned to sleet, hail, and pouring rain. I licked Mum as she got ready, she really didn't look happy, in fact when the two legged pups started fighting Mum got quite cross and declared herself "a complete wreck". Then she reminded herself of Rule 5 and got on with it. While getting on with it Mum also got distracted and although we didn't realise it until later Mum forgot to take all her medication.
Mum ran 10 miles to her race, all into the wind, rain, sleet, and ice. She was already knackered and hadn't planned to do more than a gentle trot, with the aim of running the race at her target marathon pace at the end. The trot there was apparently horrendous. I like running in the wind, but I don't always like to run into it because it does strange things to my ears and it's hard work. Mum doesn't like running in the wind ever which is odd as her ears don't blow around at all. She said running 10 miles into it was utterly miserable. Mum got to the race feeling very poorly, but adamant she was going to run it anyway, and she did. Once the race started Mum was briefly hopeful of actually getting through it at well under her target pace. Then the whole thing went suddenly and unexpectedly cross country and Mum spent two miles wading through mud in lightweight road shoes and using very bad words.
Mum was the muddiest I've ever seen her when she got home, and when I forgot I'm not meant to jump and jumped up to tell her how happy I was to see her the mud went literally all over the place. Mum had brought me mud, oddles of it, dry mud, wet mum, stinky mud, it was fab. When she collapsed in the sun with me she didn't even mind me eating her race number, and that's a strict "no" under normal circumstances.
Mum ended up a smidge over her target pace and feeling awful, but then realised later she'd forgotten to take her tablets which at least made how bad she felt make sense. Mum and I are both very cross at her for being so silly. Mum admitted that in the conditions and having forgotten among other things blood pressure medication, she was lucky not to end up collapsed by the side of a road somewhere with hypothermia. She has promised to be more careful. She has also promised to get some rest.
Silly Mum.
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