Off schedule but trying

Sarah says:
It is amazing how just a couple of days off running now makes me feel a little bleuugh. I ran on Sat and nearly killed myself. It was hot and I was dehydrated from the evening before. So I took Sunday and Monday off. Whilst my muscles recovered the rest of me felt a bit rubbish and bloated. Until I ran yesterday and miraclously I felt loads better. I have the terrible feeling that I will need to keep running forever to avoid the eurgh feeling. Humm.
Incidentally my love handles are also shrinking. The questions is, will they be sufficiently gone in time for Charlottes wedding in 10 days....

Cherry says:
I'm injured! I did a feeble 4 miles on Saturday and by the end of one of my thighs was screaming for the blessed release of death. I gave it Sunday off, and ran yesterday, but now it hurts again. Will try again on Thursday.
In other news, I'm drying out this week after a session on Monday night that nearly did for me. Next boozing session will be Charlottes wedding. Hope I don't vom down me nice dress!

Endorphins rule.

Everyone should run a marathon. It is brilliant. I feel terrific today! Last night I was woefully behind on my schedule, but pulled off a 7 mile run (complete with sprint finish) and am now well back on track. I’m amazed at how fit I am getting. I am even looking forward to tonight’s run!

In other news, my love handles are shrinking! Only problem is I’m absolutely knackered!

Sarah's blog

We did indeed go to the pub. However, in our defence, we also left the pub at 9.30 which is dead early (I left my card there which was less clever). Being very aware of the training schedule and also impending bridesmaidhood, I got up this morning and ran zombie like for five miles. That is because I did have plans for this evening but they have since been cancelled. Oh well, means I get a whole evening free to lie on the sofa without feeling guilty for having not run. I will be getting up early tomorrow to as I am off to do something else. If I stick to the maximum running plan for the week I will have run 25 miles this week. That is a marathon. No wonder it is so hard

Cherry says...

Well, we went to the pub last night.

Ever the optimist I am going to try and run 7 miles tonight.

I’m not sure if it’s been mentioned here before, but Sarah and I have a small matter of crow barring ourselves into bridesmaids dresses in a mere 2 weeks time. Thus we had better get our running pants on and our drinking pants off. Watch this space..

David Ike rides a bike.

So were are what? Four weeks in, and we haven’t given up yet. Not bad eh? Sure not every run has been run, there has been walking and there has been slacking off, but nonetheless we are still going. But as of next week, the runs get longer and its going to take some fastidious organising in order to be able to fit everything into each 24 hour period. Something has to go and I suspect the old social life will be the first casualty. It’s already been over a week since Sarah and I went to the pub together. That is some kind of record and Norris McQuirter should be dug up and informed.

Tonight I am doing 4 miles. Not too bad. I can run 4 miles with my eyes shut (so long as I don’t have to cross any busy roads) but when you have to do 4 or 5 times a week, it gets really tired. I’m bored of all the music on my MP3 player. ‘John Kettley is a Weatherman’ is a GREAT song, but alas I have heard it one too many times. An Ipod Shuffle is only £49, maybe I should invest. Or maybe I should spend that money on a pair of trainers that don’t rip my toenails off.

Twas on a Tuesday morning, when I beheld me bed

Yesterday, after enormous internal turmoil I managed to force my unco-operating body out the door. My mind was all for the run but my body was hanging onto the door frame by its finger tips yelling no no, let me die in peace. So five miles, some "whoa darling"'s and a brief shower later, I made it home. There, I had to do circuits. Now I remember circuits from when my brother did them. They really hurt him. This didn't overly appeal so I did a gentle version. I did all the exercises twice and timed doing them according to what the book said but I cheated. I had breathers in-between. Not sure why being out of breathe is so important. Perhaps someone else can let me know what I missed by doing it all a little slower.

(managed to do a real Freudian slip when typing this. My bed was hanging onto the door frame. Shows that I am very tired. Anything for a bed. A bed, a bed, my running kit for a bed)

Sarah is a girlie swat, but Cherry uploads the blogs...

Get me!
Today is Monday and the start of another weeks worth of training but I am buoyed by the success of last week. I completed all the miles that I had to and an extra half as well. That means I ran 18.5 miles. Admittedly it wasn't quite in the order it should have been but hey, no one is perfect. Friday I rebelled and went out with a mission in mind to find a pint. Which I succeeded in. Very well. This meant that Saturday I ran ..... Smug grin ...... 7.5 miles all in one go! How rock hard am I? It really wasn't that bad either. This is pretty impressive as a month ago I struggled round 3 miles and even had to walk a bit. On the down side I got my first friction burn from my radio (too cool to have an MP3 player). It is just at the height of my pants and everytime I have to go for a wee I rip the scab off again and whimper in the toilet. OK at home, not so good in public.
Today, as well as the five mile run, for the first time there are circuits on the end. I am not entirely sure how I am going to do them but the marathon guide is very keen on them. I get the feeling that they will hurt. Sigh. Just when the running wasn't as painful.

Hell hath no fury...

Unlike Sarah’s beatific week, I am currently wearing a bad devil outfit comprised of red tights, a leotard and horns on a hair-band. I probably have a plastic pitch fork too.

I have stuffed my face. I have also drunk alcohol every single night. Not in huge quantities, but alcohol none the less. I’ve also been making deals and empty promises with my running schedule, and now in order to catch up, I can’t have a rest day until Wednesday.

In other news the security guard at work asked if I was pregnant yesterday. This is the second time in 6 months this has happened to me. Can everyone just quit asking if I’m pregnant. Despite self effacing blog entries, I’m relatively confident that I don’t actually look pregnant. From now on I’m going to pre-empt the question by walking round constantly smoking, and eating from a wheel of brie. Grrrrr.

Hip hip hooray it is Friday

It is an angel, is it the pearly gates? No, it's Sarah. I have been so good this week I actually hate myself. I have only had one pint and 2 glasses of wine since Saturday night and I have run the correct distances on the correct days. I have not stuffed my face. To be honest, I feel like an empty hollow shell of a person. This isn't me. I am not virtuous. I am evil. I tempt people into the pub. I force wine down their throats. What has gone wrong? I am broken....sob. For once, however, I am not broke at the end of the week as I haven't flipping done anything.

Cherry is like a rainbow, wrapped around a sunbeam, wrapped around a skeleton.

3 miles last night. A walk in the park. Or at least a run in one.

Today should be a rest day but I’m running because I slacked off on Monday. Bring it on I say.

In other news, this morning it was raining and sunning at the same time in Croydon, and a rainbow arced across the sky. It was as though God Himself was beaming down on the town. Then he looked a little closer and the smile started to slip a bit. Then turned to a look of horror, followed closely by disgust. Then he slowly backed away, and then ran. I suppose being omnipotent means you have to spend a certain amount of time in Croydon. That’s certainly what I’m doing here.

Why are my blogs hardly ever about running these days/

Wednesday..... Stay on target, stay on target

Hello, my name is Sarah and I haven't had a drink in three days... Well not a real drink.. It was only a glass of wine! Half way through the week and I am feeling virtuous as I have only had a glass of wine since Saturday and I have kept to the training schedule. I think I have scared myself into realising that I have actually got to be sensible and that I am running a marathon in just under four months. (I originally put "in just over three months" but that too frightening and I had to change it).

Yesterday was a tiddling three miler. Which would have been fine apart from two points. 1. Training in the rain for the first time and 2. My shorts got wet and that made them ride up my thighs and involved me doing most of 2 and half miles in a strange crab shape run with one leg permanently going out sideways to stop the damn things chafing. The rest was spent running like a wild west cowboy in a showdown, legs striding as far apart as possible. All of which looked good. I was a drowned rat with odd muscles hurting when I got in.

Sarah's Monday

Tuesday and its raining.
Yesterday was 5 miles and it wasn't too bad. Admittedly getting myself out the front door to start running was a challenge but one I managed with the help of a packet of maltesers. The run wasn't too bad and for the first time I thought I might be able to further than five miles. Especially if the 6 miles didn't involve going up that great big flipping hill. You see, my route runs round the bottom of a little park and up the other side, then, I go up the north face of Everest complete with grappling hooks and crampons. To top it off I run down the other side and return back over the crest on my way back. I think it is time to find another route.

Overall, I have run 50 miles now! That is miles and miles and miles. It is half way to Poole from London.

Monday and the hell of a return to work

Ok, like the massive slacker I am (thanks for pointing that out Cherry) I did have last week off when I lounged round in my pants not doing much. I did do some runs but then slept the pain off. Now, I have officially entered the Singapore marathon and after a blinding night on Saturday (not blinding because it was such an amazingly good night but blinding as I drank far too much alcohol and couldn't see anymore) I am not drinking this week. I plan to decrease my alcohol intake until it would mean not lying to the doctor. (Come on, who tells their doctor the truth about how much they drink?). There are five miles with my name on them out there and tonight I shall not curse, not complain but silently power my way through them. Well, I will whimper my way round but that is better than my temper tantrums of the past.

Not feeling much inspiration for trying to be funny at the moment as I am too dispirited by return to work.

Cherry says

5 miles tonight. Don’t wanna.

Ouch.

Last night I went running with Charlotte. For those that don’t know, Charlotte is a friend of ours who isn’t running the marathon with us because 1) She’s much better at running than us and would make us look bad and 2) She’s getting married very soon so doesn’t have the time or holiday allowance to swan off to Singapore. She is also able to run and talk at the same time, I don’t know how, I think she must have an extra lung, or a system of air sacs or something.
Anyway I ran with her and she nearly killed me. Although this is good because it meant I pushed myself harder than usual, but bad because lowering myself on and off chairs causes screaming of the muscles. So today is an unscheduled rest day.

Things were also greatly improved by my new titanium and polyester mix sports bra, which keeps the twins in check and doesn’t give me a friction burn. If there were to be a nuclear assault on London, you can rest assured that my bra would survive it. I think it is also stab-proof which will be handy when the longer runs come in and I have to start running through Peckham.

Tales from the brown side.

Hello reader, if indeed you are a reader,

You are still stuck with me as Sarah is lounging about at home like the misfit she is, and with no one to speak to my blogs are going to get more and more strange and scatological. A friend of mine describes August as a wicked month, and I see her point. There is no one good around to email as everyone is on holiday, and work dies off a bit. Since I am one of a dwindling number of people who can be bothered to come into the office this month, this leaves me with no one to talk to, nothing to do and my only outlet into the world rambling into this blog. Which, very probably, no one reads.

Four and a half miles tonight and as the mileage creeps up, my thoughts turn to Poo Stage, and when it will rear it’s turtle’s head. I expect it will be like finally reaching Nirvana or enlightment (although more messy and evil smelling) and come with a tremendous sense of achievement.

Sarah tells me that its around the 8 mile mark, so if all staying on track, I should be running round London with a load in my pants in a matter of weeks. I’m imagining all sorts of Gambling and Losing scenarios, particularly ones where I have put it all on brown.

I’m BORED!

ROCK!

OK how rock am I? Last night I did a full day at work, a 5 mile run AND went to the pub. Amazing what you can achieve when you are trying to avoid unpacking.

I have to say I entirely agree with Sarah’s point of a few days ago, regarding sexually aggressive heckling of the innocent runner. There seem to be a lot of van drivers in the neighbourhood whose particular fettish is, it seems, slightly chubby, sweaty women with crimson faces. Wonder what’s going on there. Shame I don’t fancy Sun reading, wing mirror ignoring morons or I would never be short of a date.

In other news, I stepped on the scales last night and have lost half a stone! Today I am celebrating with Pringles.

Ahh well - from Cherry

Well, it’s fair to say that not much running happened over the weekend. Instead there was drinking beer, barbequing sausages, and moving house. Sarah helped me move, and I think we all got plenty of exercise on account of my old flat being up three million stairs.
Still I hope to arise phoenix like from my own ashes today as I take up running again with gusto. Or maybe tomorrow.

I'm feeling slightly more Snickers than Marathon today.

In other news - Sarah is off work this week like a massive slacker.

Happy Birthday to Cherry

Cherry’s birthday blues.

Well today is a day for forgetting about running and remembering the day of my birth. I didn’t run yesterday, I won’t run tomorrow or Saturday, but I will start again on Sunday.

Today I will mostly be having and internal dialogue that occasionally externalises itself in the form of hysterical shrieking. I will be having a stern word with myself about the last year and discussing ways to be less of a disaster area again this time next year. I think probably not having days off running to go to the pub and celebrate my birthday would be a good start, but never mind that.

For more birthday whining look at this.

Or for a bit of a larf, look at this

God I’m an irritating whingeing old bag! But don’t worry, I’ll be back to normal in no time and the demons will be safely confined to me head where they will fester as a mental illness or malignant tumour.

And over to Sarah…

It's Cherry's Birthday

In an act of unstinting generosity, I am not going to run but go to the pub to help Cherry celebrate her birthday. What a saint I am. I did run yesterday. A four miler. It wasn't too bad. A couple of days off seem to have helped though I was a tad stiff when I first set out. I looked a little like a octogenarian octopus with arthritis. Legs and arms were going everywhere but at strange angles. I am sure for the first half mile, the looks that are normally directed to my chest area were being distracted by the strange wobbling limbs being thrust outwards like I had a personal vendetta against that section of pavement, or those leaves on that tree or the small child on a tricycle.

Anyway, it got better. What I would like to rise though is the male response to my jogging. OK, I have sweat marks everywhere, my face is visible in space and people think it is a mini sun as it is so hot, my hair is held back by a head band beautifully fashioned to circa 1990 yet I get beeped and leery wa-hays. Why? Is it because my boobs, squashed into a sports bra and covered with an ample t-shirt are bobbing up and down, do I look so fetching in sports gear with my VPL and damp patches. I have come to the conclusion that men are stupid and will beep anything. I wish they would stop and allow me to jog in my festering state unnoticed.

The Day the Music Died (Sarah)

Tuesday was written off due to sunshine and an urgent need to visit the pub. It was an issue of national importance. Yesterday, after a very, very early start (doing things I should have done the evening before but was too busy in the pub to do), there was a pizza for lunch and then falling asleep on the sofa when I got home from work. This took any desire of mine to be good and run and led it into a dark alley to teach it a lesson. It won't be making that mistake again. It was all compounded by a fish and chips supper before more dozing on the sofa. On the plus side, I do know what has happened to a number of people a year after they approached the dragons den. Thank God, I was missing sleep on that.

Finally, to top off a long, unsatisfactory day, there was the awakening at silly o clock. This would be the erstwhile "only going for one pint" Jon and Neil. Now Neil is a nice bloke, but please, dear God, once again I was awoken to him strumming a guitar and singing very loudly wwwwwoooooohhhhhh oooohhhhhh. Both are lucky that they weren't confronted with a sleep smudged homicidal female willing to wrap guitar around wwooohh oohhhh heads.
Tonight, I shall resume training.

The Day all hope of anything Died (Cherry)

I did my run! What a saint! I went for a 4 mile limp which was a genuine limp by the time I got home because one of my hips was grumbling and hurting. I maybe need a hip replacement. I am 29 tomorrow after all.

In all honesty, running and hips are the least of my problems. Yesterday my day started with having a filling with no anaesthetic and went steadily downhill from there. I’m moving house at the weekend, enduring multiple personal traumas and am having a serious case of the birthday blues. Another year, another birthday alone, and nothing to show for my life but a series of broken relationships and numerous box-sets of cartoons. In fact if anything this helps my training as my self loathing is now so acute that I actually enjoy the pain of running. It beats self mutilation. I wonder if anyone else has run a marathon as an undetectable form of self harm. Maybe the endorphines will do me good.

I'm off to listen to some Emo rock and dye my hair black.

walking and scowling

Sarah says

Oops. Went to the pub instead of running. But here is a picture of me doing exercise.

Cherry says:

I did my run. Should I post a pic of myself drinking beer?