Whatever the weather

It's hard to imagine it as we bask in the current tropical heatwave, lolling in hammocks and complaining because the ice in our mint juleps is melting too quickly, but back in the day it used to be quite cold and wet. Cast your mind back a week or so, if your heat-addled brain can still manage that, and you may remember a couple of days where it absolutely poured down - and those of us stupid enough to go running got completely drenched.
Some runners apparently like the rain. I'm not talking about a light drizzle - that can be a blessing as it gently caresses your sweat-soaked brow on a hot, sticky 10k slog. I'm not even talking about a quick shower, or a steady rain you just grit your teeth and keep on running through. I'm talking about a total downpour.

I got caught in one of those last week. Set off with a few threatening clouds overhead and then, after about half an hour, the first few drops start spattering down. My initial thought is to carry on - halfway through my planned run, and it's only a bit of water, right? And then it starts getting wetter and wetter and by the time I've reached 9k, I'm soaked through, my trainers are so waterlogged and heavy that each pace feels like trying to run in a diving suit. Pure misery (as you can tell from my selfie).
But I'm nearly at my target and I'm so drenched I might as well carry on - and then the rain just gets ridiculous - one of those downpours where you can hardly see the gaps between the drops - and then it's just a question of finishing, getting home and drying off. Those runners that claim they like splashing through puddles and getting soaked - what are you on??

 Since then, of course, the weather's turned and it's been hot and humid. More horrible conditions for runners. Sometimes I think there's barely a meteorological state I'm particularly keen on when I'm running. Just occasionally it's exactly right - sunny, dry, not too hot, bit of a breeze to cool you down but not so much wind you feel you're battling against it, fresh and no humidity.... basically, exactly the conditions on the one day when you can't go running because you're waiting in for a delivery. 
The weather is apparently unlikely to be like that this week when I tackle the Vitality London 10k. I'm hoping for a decent time (which in case would mean beating my 55-minute personal best for a 10k race, and in an ideal world would mean running sub-52-minutes for my fastest 10k ever) but my recent training runs have been pretty dreadful. I seem to be getting slower rather than faster and my stamina worse rather than better.
Could be old age. But I'm blaming the weather. 

Injuries (real or imagined)

It's always the same. Get up in the morning, knowing you have a long training run ahead of you, and suddenly your body becomes a collection of little knocks and niggles. Here a dull ache in your lower spine, there a shooting pain down your calf, everywhere a general malaise and a feeling of Not Being Quite Right. 
No? Anyone? Just me then.
It's intensely annoying. I can go to bed the night before feeling tip-top and in prime condition, ready to crank out a PB the next day. Come the morning and my body is finding all sorts of excuses to stay at home and not spend the next hour pounding the pavements. It takes quite a lot of willpower to overcome that sometimes.
It's not all in the mind, though. Sometimes you have actually done yourself damage. A couple of weeks ago, I did something to my upper calf when practising hill sprints - a little twinge which may just have been the muscle tightening up but could also have been a little pop or tear. Either way, the only thing to do was to stop immediately - and then rest it for a few days to make sure it was nothing more serious.
I've torn my hamstring while sprinting in the past. It was excruciatingly painful, incredibly embarrassing (it happened at the Lee Valley athletics centre, in front of a bunch of proper runners and their coaches, while I was trying to out-sprint my stepdaughter) and it left me unable to run for six weeks. I never want that happening again if I can avoid it.
Last week too, I started having real problems with my left heel. There's an ailment called plantar fasciitis which the runners among you will be only too well aware of. For the rest of you, it's like a bruise or tenderness around the heel which can make it extremely painful to walk, especially when climbing stairs.
Runners suffer from it a lot because we put a lot of strain on the plantar fascia, the ligament that connects the heel to the toes. Even Mo Farah had it at one point, so it's an occupational hazard.
I've had it in a minor form in my right foot for several years now, but basically just live with it as it's not too severe. It's slightly annoying for the first few steps after I've been lying or sitting down, but that's about it.

 It doesn't hurt when I run, though it does necessitate sticking my foot in a bucket of ice water (see picture) after a long run to reduce the swelling and aid recovery. What fun.
But now it's in my left foot. And it hurts like a demon. The first step walking upstairs is almost enough to bring tears to my eyes. It really doesn't make you feel any more encouraged to tackle those long runs.
I've been told to try a new stretching exercise, which involves standing on the ball of my foot on the edge of a step, dropping my heel down to stretch my calf, and then (and here's the clever bit) bending my knee slightly to concentrate the stretch in the muscles closest to the heel. Then hold it for a minute.
Best to do it indoors. It's not an easy or elegant position to hold. You look like you've been caught out while squatting for an emergency poo. And it's uncomfortable too. But it's very effective. Within days, the pain reduced to barely noticeable levels - to the point where my mind can hardly justify using it any more as an excuse not to go running.
However, it's raining out and there's this nagging ache in my back.....

*NB For more on plantar fasciitis, here: http://www.webmd.com/a-to-z-guides/tc/plantar-fasciitis-topic-overview#1

Week One (And A Bit)

Training so far, it has to be said, has been a bit of a shambles. 

My first target is preparing for a 10km race in London at the end of May - the Vitality 10k, a lovely flat-ish run past a host of the city's landmarks - so I kicked off with a 10km run round (and round and round) my local park to see whether I'm up to speed for that distance.
Hmm. It was alright, I suppose. I didn't disgrace myself, but it was a couple of minutes slower than I'd hoped. Still, the stamina was OK - in that I didn't actually stop and gasp for breath as if I was dying at any point.
A couple of days later, I thought I'd try a fast 5km. Dreadful. Sometimes you just know when you start to run that something's not right, you're not feeling it, miscellaneous aches and pains start shooting across your joints, your legs feel heavy, etc etc. 
I'm never sure whether it's real or psychological but the effect is much the same. In this case, I bailed out early. I'm not proud of it. But it was raining and, well, I just didn't fancy it.
(That, of course, is exactly the sort of spirit you need to tackle a marathon.)
On Friday, I flew to Pittsburgh

Pittsburgh

to see my daughter's graduation ceremony. Transatlantic travel, I've found, puts a bit of a dent in one's training schedule, with all the journey time and the jet lag and so on. 
In the event, I did manage to put in one run. But I hadn't realised how hilly the city of Pittsburgh is. Anyone who's ever run with me knows how badly hills and I get on. I ended up on a woodland trail in a park in a place called Mount Oliver (yes, I guess the clue about the hilly-ness really was in the name) which nearly finished me off completely.
After a bit, I gave up trying to run at any pace at all, just gritted my teeth and concentrated on getting to the end without collapsing in a sad heap. Happy to say I made it - but I think I'll keep how long it took me to myself if that's OK.
Anyway. Things - in the immortal words of the inestimable D Ream - can only get better.

Starting out

Hi.
I'm Rob, I'm 52, and before the year is out, I'm going to run my first marathon.
I don't know where, and I don't know when exactly. It's just that if I don't do it now, I may never do it.
It's only going to get harder as my body clock ticks its way relentlessly through my 50s. So it's time to bite the bullet, and carpe the diem, and all that, and just - as Nike so wisely say - do it.
I should point out that I'm not a complete newcomer to long-distance running - I've done two half-marathons, and regularly run 5000 or 10,000 metres in training and events. I might not be the fastest or the fittest, but I can hold my own with most of the semi-serious park-runners out there.
But a marathon is in another league - a test of endurance that, when you're pounding the pavements for mile after mile, seems practically unreachable, a shimmering city of Oz at the close of a seemingly endless yellow brick road.
Still, that's my goal. I can't think too much about it as I'll just start to panic. Instead I just have to take it step by footsore step.
I'm writing this just a few days after the 2017 London marathon. Today I plucked up my courage and completed the entry for the 2018 race. 

The ballot for this is just crazy - they get hundreds of entries for each spot, so my chances of getting a place are limited. But somebody's got to get one, and it might just be me.
If I can't run London, I'll try my luck elsewhere. I will enter a marathon this year, I'm certain about that. Whether I can finish one is a different matter altogether. It'll take a lot of hard work, it's going to hurt, but hopefully there'll be a bit of happiness and humour along the way as well.
I'll be providing updates and insights about my progress right here on this blog. It'd be great if you could join me for the journey.