at last, a good running shirt

If your physical form is slightly below the ideal; if, like me, your body is – how to put this? – somewhat lacking in grace, beauty and athleticism, then finding clothing to wear while exercising is a pretty fraught process.

I notice lots of girls at the moment going for the uniform of some species of black tights below the waist and a pinky-peach-coloured top above. That seems to work okay for them, but I don’t think it’s a unisex look, particularly.

For me, shorts are a disaster. Actually, it’s the legs that are the disaster, but finding shorts to cover them up appropriately is pretty stressful too.

Shirts aren’t so bad, generally, although you can still go wrong. I bought last year’s (2008) Run for the Kids event t-shirt in a fit of charity and optimism about the size of my “pecs”. It didn’t fit, was a yucky colour and was hopeless to run in, oweing to the fact it ended up dripping with sweat and weighing a tonne in about 3 minutes.

This year I held off buying one until race day, so I could have a look at them first. I did buy one on the day, and boy am I happy.

It’s possibly the best running shirt I’ve ever had. It fits me, it’s light and soft and doesn’t get heavy with sweat. I’ve only had it 10 days and I think I’ve worn it 4 times already.

Good stuff.

Running
I was, and am, severely sleep-deprived today, so I didn’t expect much from my lunch-time run. Still, you never know if you don’t try, so I headed up to Princes Park for a tempo session. It turned out pretty well, even in the wind. I did 7 minutes fast, 3 minutes normal, then 7 minutes fast, then 3 minutes normal. With warmup and cool down it turned out a smidgen over 12.5km.

invisible

The Run for the Kids was…. erm…. 4 days ago now. The results have been printed in the paper, discussed ad nauseum and pretty much forgotten about. There are even pictures online for purchase at www.supersportimages.com.au.

Which brings me to my question: where are the pictures of me? I know for a fact I spent most of the race mugging for the cameras lining the course. I have a distinct memory of waving like an ijjit at some guy on the top of the Bolte Bridge.

But, go to the website, and I defy you to find a picture of me. I defy you!

What’s worse, there was a picture on the Herald Sun website, in which I appear very slightly on the right of screen. Here’s the link.

This pictures was used in the souvenir handout yesterday, but they’d cropped it so I didn’t show.

I’m beginning to think it’s a personal slight.

That being said, based on this picture on Jaykay’s blog, the lack of online pictures is probably a good thing

Running
The legs are starting to feel more normal now, although they’re probably not speaking to me. Last night I did a steady 10km, followed by 6 strides. Today was the mid-week long run. 15.5km in an hour 9 minutes. Here it is on mapmyrun.com.

Mapmyrun.com
I don’t know if you use this site, many runners do. If you don’t have a Garmin type thing, it’s about the best way I can think of to keep track of your running. It certainly beats using bits of string and the Melways (don’t ask).

Sadly, whoever runs the thing has figured out websites don’t come for free, and they need to start making some money from the thing. So their way of making money seems to be annoying you into coughing up for “premium memberships”.

A Premium Membership seems to be the site as it used to be – without all the annoying ads. So, basically, what they’re saying is: now you have to pay for what used to be free.

First there were ads that showed up for 10 seconds before you got to a map, now they have really intrusive ads that show up IN THE MAP AS YOU’RE USING IT. You can drag it away, but that’s hardly the point.

Also, they’ve released a new version of the mapping tool, which seems to have replaced the old cursor with a hand tool. This is head-bangingly, insanely stupid and annoying. When you’re mapping out a run, you need precision. I would have thought that was pretty obvious.

If I met the guy who thought of this I’d quite happily – to quote Antony and the Johnsons – carve his face in the back of the sun.

Don’t know what that means? Me neither, but it sounds suitably dramatic and unpleasant.

Toodle-pip!

more running for the kids

Despite my unreasonable cynicism about things done “for the children!!!!”, I did the Run for the Kids yet again this morning.

As always, it was an enjoyable-ish run. A few big hills, some flat bits and some nice scenery. On the downside, running through the tunnel is a seriously unpleasant experience in and of itself, and it’s not helped by having to duck, weave, elbow and swear at a million slow-coaches getting in my way. I guess it’s a feature of the fun run experience – people not knowing how to self-seed, or how to pace themselves appropriately.

There should be a rule against people running 4 or 5 abreast, or maybe I just need to chill out and realise it’s not the olympics.

I finished in 56:50, by my watch, which is okay considering I’m still on the tail-end of the world’s worst case of man flu.

The kids (mine) and my missus met me at the end and then headed down, by a roundabout way, to Transport in Fed Square. The staff there seemed a bit non-plussed to see a load of sweaty, stinky runners cluttering up the bar, and were certainly ill-prepared for my order of coffees. It took about 20 minutes.

I finally, officially, clapped eyes on Sara, after god knows how many years of following her blog. I’m sure it was worth the wait, though probably not for her. Also there was a whole host of regular running forum types – Tiger Boy, Em, Jaykay, Michelle, as well as Sassycil and Shells who I hadn’t met yet.

tapering

Some people claim to like tapering, not me. The idea of stopping running to make you run faster doesn’t seem to make sense. It’s the kind of idea the Pope might think up – it has a lot in common with the idea that wearing condoms helps spread AIDS.

Sadly, unlike the condom thing, tapering does actually work no matter how it feels at the time (stressful, when you have a big run coming up).

So, I do taper before marathons, but not at all for shorter races. Until and unless I’m made to enter the Olympic 5000 metres, short races aren’t worth the stress.

That includes Run for the Kids this weekend. I just know I’ll spend the first km or so (up to and including the tunnel) ducking and weaving and elbowing old ladies in the face. Then I’ll crank it up a bit as best I can. The thing is, do I really care how fast I can run 14.1km? Does it matter?

Not a jot. So, no tapering for me. In fact, this morning I ran 27km in just over 2 hours. Not blistering pace, by any means, but pleasing. I finished still overflowing with vim and vigour and generally full of running (well, derr….)

April fools
My vote for april fools joke of the year goes to the Guardian (not usually known for their sense of humour) who announced they were stopping print newspapers in favour of an all-Twitter edition.

Lance Armstrong – Tour de Force” by Daniel Coyle
In a freakish coincidence, AJH and I happened to be reading this book at the same time. Actually, it’s probably not so much of a coincidence. He (Andrew) is a cyclist and I have too much time on my hands. Anyway, I’m now feverishly anticipating long, cold July nights spent watching anorexic Spanish guys zoom up and down le Col de Whatever.

I’m even looking forward to Mr Armstrong himself, even though I’m quietly convinced he’s a bit of an a***hole. A compelling, heroic a***hole, but an a***hole nonetheless.

april fool

It’s not actually April yet, despite what Em would have you believe.

But it IS more than 10 days since last I wrote.

If you know me at all well, you’ll know I never go that long without posting unless I’m in a major grump. Well…. I’ve been in a major grump.

To be precise, I’ve been sick. The world’s worst man-flu, that laid me pretty much horizontal for 5 days. 5 days spent watching the world’s largest collection of James Bond DVDs and calling feebly for Panadol and chicken soup.

That finished last Thursday, but it wasn’t until Sunday that I felt well enough to run. Even then, I probably shouldn’t have.

Today I had a more decent 12.5km run and tomorrow there’ll be another.

It’s all been terribly depressing. I now feel weak and unfit, like I’ve lost all the work I did up to now and am starting marathon training from scratch.

I did consider, in a fit of pique, pulling out of Gold Coast altogether. I’d also consider bailing on the Run for the Kids, except I want to try out the new Racer shoes.

Ahh well, it will pass. It hasn’t killed me, so I guess I must be stronger.

poor me

I was going to write some sort of review or response to the Wayne Carey interview on Denton last night, but I’m not sure there’s any point. If you’re interested, you probably saw it yourself and can make up your own mind. If you didn’t watch it, there’s a chance you gave it a miss because to watch it would be in some way to encourage the guy. Makes sense.

I don’t have a lot of time for wife-beating, binge-drinking, best friend’s wife-rooting, footy “personalities” either. I’ve never liked the guy, and last night’s program makes me feel pretty justified in that. He’s a thug and a moron with the self-awareness of a slightly dim slug and the extent to which we as a society held him up as a role model demeans us all.

I haven’t changed my mind one bit on that, but I almost had some sympathy for him last night. He’s in a very difficult place, completely of his own doing, but difficult none the less.

There’s no good end to this particular story: the best we can hope for is that he honestly comes to terms with his actions and makes some attempt at restitution.

Enough on that story. Binge drinking, childhood violence, domestic violence, court cases: it’s all pretty depressing.

Run for the kids
I shelled out for the Herald Sun this morning, always an enlightening experience, in the hopes of seeing my name and initials in print. They were there, and I guess the fleeting rush of seeing that JH – 56:07 193 was enough to justify the $1.10.

I’d like to the think the way the paper came out 12 hours before the results were online is just a coincidence. Ah well, everyone’s gotta make a buck in this dirty old world. Poor old Rupert Murdoch’s obviously short a few bob.

apologies

No running today, as yet, and precious little time for blogging either. How can I work when I keep getting these emails saying “Topic – Run for the kids 2008 has been updated” every 20 seconds. Yes, yes, I know if I stopped answering them, they wouldn’t come. But, take that to it’s logical conclusion and I may, horror of horrors, have to do some work.

We can’t have that.

The Ausrun forum emails almost outnumbered the proper, hard-core spam today. My gmail account usually gets the “we can make your penis bigger/longer/faster/tastier/paint red go-faster stripes down the side” type things, but for some reason the world’s spammers decided when I’m at work I want to buy a dodgy watch. I’m bombarded with invitations to buy “genuyne” Rolexs and other brands who’s names I don’t recall. Odd.

Anyway, by mid afternoon I had finally wearied of look of photos of Jojo getting sloshed at 11am, so I earned my exorbitant salary with a brisk 20 minutes emailing, and then chooffed off home, ready for bed. If I make it that long, I may spend some time getting acquainted with Master Carey on Andrew Denton’s show, but only if I manage to fend off oblivion and unconsciousness for a few more hours.

“Oblivion and unconsciousness”, “Wayne Carey”. The two concepts have an odd sort of resonance together. Or is it me?

Time
If you happen to be one of those churchy types who think obivion’s just around the corner, you might have cause to be a bit nervous right about now. Eh? Why, you ask me? Because the very fabric of time is crumbling around us.

My computer says it’s 19:25, the lift at work thinks it’s 18:24, and the real time is???? Is there such a thing as “real time” any more?

My trusty, reliable, watch (which Em sneeringly referred to as “analog” on Sunday) thinks it’s last Tuesday. Actually, it thinks it’s Mardi, as it’s a bilingual watch that has somehow lost the ability to speak English. I can’t hide my disappointment: it only had to remember 7 words.

ran for the kids

Well “the kids” have been run for yet again, I wonder if they realise all this is happening on their behalf?

Race report
I woke this morning, as expected, with several red hot pokers jabbing into my lower back, courtesy of a Saturday spent gardening. Bloody gardening. Also, what seemed to be the beginnings of a cold. Thankfully I had a 3km run to Ringwood station in freezing pitch blackness – that’s always good for colds.

The run cheered me up a touch, but Ringwood station had the opposite effect. When I finally made it into town I was accosted by a veritable blogging triumvirate of Jojo, Em and AJH, all of whom were looking sprightly, cheerful and raring to go, in which respect they differed markedly from me. A few minutes worth of good natured banter followed and then what felt like a v. rushed start. I was expecting 20 minutes of “entertainment” from a Mix 101.1 DJ. Bummer.

There were two starts, for some unkown reason. Jojo et al headed down the low road (typical) while I took the high road. That was the last I saw of the three blogidos.

The first 3km were pretty good, comfortable, fast and breezy. I made it over the Bolte feeling fine, even taking note of the scenery. Between 9km and 10km I started to feel a touch grumpy. Morsey was there yelling encouragement.

Note to self: must remind Morsey that “JRuns” is not actually my real name.

I continued grumping over the Collins street bridge then cheered up at the casino, past Flinders street and managed a piffling little kick at the end. It worked out slightly over 56 minutes, so I’m not too upset.

After collecting water, lollies, wifey and offspring in that order, we all trooped down to Transport, where a rather bemused functionary refused us entry on the grounds that the place wasn’t open for another 45 minutes. Petty, I call it.

I felt it beneath my dignity to be seen lining up outside a pub at 10:15am, so we headed home to the blessed anonymity of the Eastern suburbs.