Miles - 8; Time 1 hour 3 minutes; Weekly Mileage 20 miles
So The country is in panic. Petrol Forecourts are running dry. Motorists are furiously driving around in search of Diesel and Ginsters Slices. Not only have the Petrol Tanker Drivers threatened to strike, so have the Ginsters Drivers. It's a disaster. How the fuck is Britain supposed to drive and what on earth are we to eat? I'm going to end up having to some tinned fucking mints and Rodeo Burger to keep me going. It;s a fucking disgrace. You can't have a petrol station without Ginsters for Christs sakes. OK you need petrol of course, but no Ginsters is like a Fish and Chip shop without Fish. Like MacDonald's without a Big Mac, like David Cameron without the posh privileged public school old boys network donations for peerages and business favours type of thing.
It's panic on a grand scale. Long queues, Irate motorists, forecourt cashiers stressed. Sounds like any Wild Bean Cafe to me. Business as usual.
It's a joke. Hysteria for no reason. It shows what is shit about UK. Petrol stations ripping us off by raising prices to £2million a litre, the media creating hysteria, Governments jumping on the back to score political points, but worst of all it highlights the utter stupidity of some people in this country.
All this shit that the minister who recommended we should buy petrol and put in cans and store them, should resign because he is responsible for that poor woman giving herself 40% burns is total bollocks. Obviously I'm sorry for her, but pouring petrol into a glass jar whilst cooking dinner? Fuck me she may as well be pulling on a Rothmans and be done with it.
They should have made it compulsory on Celebrity 'Come Dine With Me'. I would have cheerfully watched Paul Daniels set himself on fire serving Flaming Sambucas. Though if i would set myself on fire i word be saying stronger words than 'flamming'.
What happened to personal responsibility? We must face facts that some people are thick as pig shit.
The government may have made that announcement, but since when do you believe anything the government says and go and act on it like brainless lemmings?
I mean People have been turning up with Jam jars and washing up bottles for fucks sake. How dull can you get? What next? Filling up your cigarette lighters with Derv? Fucking balloon heads. Mind you i hope their is fuel strike, at least they won't be able to do 'Coach Trip' then on Channel 4. Dreadful.
It's Just like when it snowed and people panic buy supermarkets out of Stock. I mean what have we come to when we can't survive a day or two, or even a week without our creature comforts. Ray Mears must be spitting mad. I wouldn't see him hysterically racing around Asda throwing Scotch Eggs into his basket, though to be fair he's more of A Waitrose man. I've seen him in the one in Richmond. Fucking fraud.
As you may have gathered, today i am better. I feel human. I really am back. Phew, thank fuck for that. I've been in a dark place all week. Not sure about anyone else but when I'm ill it really affects my head and i get ultra negative, moody and moany. Extremely dark. It;s a nightmare, like living in a Leonard Cohen album. Trapped in misery.
But today i am out. I'm more KC and the Sunshine Band. Head better, body better. World better. I am at peace. Dare i say it, i am relaxed.
I started the day determined to try and make myself healthier, so i looked up loads of fresh juices to get into. I went out got a juicer, did £25 on vegetables and fruit, herbs and parsley. I even had a list to work through, Christ my Nan would have swelled with pride. The only thing i lacked was a house coat and an old school shopping cart.
Then i went to Holland & Barrat and loaded up on Spirulina, (for brain and body)Chromium (for blood levels and detox) and Chlorophyll (not to be mistaken for chloroform, that's for my 'special dates') Multi vitamins, etc. Jesus another £50 done. When i laid it all out on the side it looked impressively healthy. I will marvel at it later when I'm tucking into a kebab.
Then i helped a friends Old Mum to sort her TV out in the switch to digital. It felt good. Not so much to help a 71 year old, but it was one of the few times in my life i have actually known more about something technological than the other person in the room. Good for my esteem. I clearly need to work in a nursing home.
And then, to the gym where i did a swift 8 mile run. First in a while and i did struggle a bit. The head was telling me to stop after 5 miles, then 6 miles, then 7 miles but i kept on going and did a strong 8 miles. It felt good.
I realised today a few things. Today is day 90. 3 months doing this blog and training. Seems a landmark and i figured out my mood is closely correlated to my physical health. When I'm eating badly and not looking after myself i do the work, put the effort in, but it's always despite myself. Always the opposite to my head and body, so consequently it's always a battle, an effort.
That is my natural state. As easy to me as having green eyes and a fetish for leggins. I am used to it. So when i really eat healthy, look after myself, get a good attitude, relax and let things happen, i don't think about it and just do it when i planned to. Jesus life is soooo much easier then.
I can't believe I've just worked that out now. 3 months in. I have always known it and even written about it in this blog, but today i really understood it. So maybe that's my lesson, my challenge in this marathon. I may not get it right in the next 3 months but I'm certainly going to try. Hopefully that will free up the rest of my head to write some comedy or even write a book?
I've been stressing recently about not knowing what i want to do. Of feeling a failure. Thinking i should be doing something amazing by know. To be married, settled down. financially secure. In short, 'sorted'. On a bad day when I'm ill and gloomy like this week Jesus those negative thoughts are strong. When I'm better and lighter they are just nagging in the back of my head. Quiet.
I am scared of many things and fear and sloth holds me back from doing so much. I get overwhelmed with not knowing what i want to do when i grow up. Comedy, acting, talk show, Radio, writing, counsellor, treatment centre, retrain or get a proper job like a Male escort?
I'm not really sure, but I'm sure more will be revealed. As wise Tim told me last week, pick something, focus, learn, get obsessed by it and be the best you can. weirdly that's what Noel Gallagher was saying on TV last night. Maybe i should write, some people have left some great comments on the blog and suggested i should. Why do i not believe them? Sort out the self esteem Evans and get over yourself.
And finally to tomorrow. A planned 20 miler. Will have to see how the energy is but i will prepare best i can and try and not put it off all day, worry about it and then finally get sick of myself and do it. I will try and get up and out and do it properly. Simple huh.
Keep it simple and Keep it healthy Nick is my message to myself. Now, where is that sodding Rodeo Burger. 2 minutes in the microwave versus 12 minutes preparation for fresh juice in the juicer and then clean it afterwards? No contest. Beep Beep
xx
Saturday, March 31, 2012
Day 89 - Friday 30th March
Mileage 7 - time 34 hours; Weekly mileage 12
Jesus Christ, running that 7 miles along the river at a pace similar to that of a French Petrol Tanker driver, was grim. The illness continues, the grim feeling continues. I got back from work at 5pm, it was sunny, it was beautiful, i felt like shit but i had to get out.
I trundled along the towpath getting overtaken by women with prams, mobility scooters, 1 legged ants and a tortoise on mogadon. I was slow.
Determined to do 7 miles though, which i duly completed in just over the time it took to build the Olympic Stadium. All the was my head was saying "stop". "Eat Haagen Daazs", but i continued and finished with both a sense of relief and satisfaction.
Not really sure what's wrong but i look dreadful. Bigger dark circles around my eyes than Jessy J. No colour, even the David Dickinson perma tan has drained and i look as healthy as John Prescott naked on the khazi. Grim.
I spent the night eating healthy, chicken and veg, only the 3rd time i have physically cooked this year, and avoiding diet coke, tea and those nasty little bastard things called sweets. MMMM, maybe that last sentence sums up why i feel so bad?
It is definitely a virus. A Bug, clearly mixed with my genetic structure and DNA has developed into a mutant super bug. The bug equivalent of Britain's Got Talent. Big, monstrous ultimately vacuous and leaves you feeling shit.
The night was spent watching the following. Panorama documentary about the Indian dude who allegedly had his wife murdered on honeymoon and is now Mentally ill and to ill to stand trial (Not as bad as my fucking illness though)
That was followed by Bruce Almighty, always good ill filmage, then by a Parkinson repeat from the 70's interviewing proper stars, in proper interviews that actually involved stimulating and interesting chat, not the endless bollocks of talk show hosts being ego manically talking about themselves and asking a load of empty meaningless dumb as fuck question pre agreed by the celebrities PR people before they get to promote what they are doing. Dull
Finally i ended up with a BBC4 interview with Noel Gallagher, who came across really well. Obviously gobby and full of himself but i reckon he deserves to be. Fair play. And he had a decent haircut for once.
Again, not exactly a rock n roll Friday night but as my Nan would say 'therewarthen' (in a welsh accent) and as my Uncle Ken would say 'and those on it there'.
That will always make me smile. His sentences simply mean nothing and are all made up. It's fab
NN people and please I'll be better tomorrow. I need to be, i feel like I'm trapped in a Radiohead song.
xx
Jesus Christ, running that 7 miles along the river at a pace similar to that of a French Petrol Tanker driver, was grim. The illness continues, the grim feeling continues. I got back from work at 5pm, it was sunny, it was beautiful, i felt like shit but i had to get out.
I trundled along the towpath getting overtaken by women with prams, mobility scooters, 1 legged ants and a tortoise on mogadon. I was slow.
Determined to do 7 miles though, which i duly completed in just over the time it took to build the Olympic Stadium. All the was my head was saying "stop". "Eat Haagen Daazs", but i continued and finished with both a sense of relief and satisfaction.
Not really sure what's wrong but i look dreadful. Bigger dark circles around my eyes than Jessy J. No colour, even the David Dickinson perma tan has drained and i look as healthy as John Prescott naked on the khazi. Grim.
I spent the night eating healthy, chicken and veg, only the 3rd time i have physically cooked this year, and avoiding diet coke, tea and those nasty little bastard things called sweets. MMMM, maybe that last sentence sums up why i feel so bad?
It is definitely a virus. A Bug, clearly mixed with my genetic structure and DNA has developed into a mutant super bug. The bug equivalent of Britain's Got Talent. Big, monstrous ultimately vacuous and leaves you feeling shit.
The night was spent watching the following. Panorama documentary about the Indian dude who allegedly had his wife murdered on honeymoon and is now Mentally ill and to ill to stand trial (Not as bad as my fucking illness though)
That was followed by Bruce Almighty, always good ill filmage, then by a Parkinson repeat from the 70's interviewing proper stars, in proper interviews that actually involved stimulating and interesting chat, not the endless bollocks of talk show hosts being ego manically talking about themselves and asking a load of empty meaningless dumb as fuck question pre agreed by the celebrities PR people before they get to promote what they are doing. Dull
Finally i ended up with a BBC4 interview with Noel Gallagher, who came across really well. Obviously gobby and full of himself but i reckon he deserves to be. Fair play. And he had a decent haircut for once.
Again, not exactly a rock n roll Friday night but as my Nan would say 'therewarthen' (in a welsh accent) and as my Uncle Ken would say 'and those on it there'.
That will always make me smile. His sentences simply mean nothing and are all made up. It's fab
NN people and please I'll be better tomorrow. I need to be, i feel like I'm trapped in a Radiohead song.
xx
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Day 88 - Thursday 29th March
Mileage 5 ; Time - v v slow; Weekly mileage 5 miles
I have spent the week eating ultra healthily, drinking minimal tea and diet coke. Necking multi vitamins and acidophalis, downing the dreaded herbal tea, Sleeping and resting. Trying desperately not to fall into a deep dark mental abyss. So it was ultra gutting to wake up feeling like I'd been date raped by a gorilla. Grim
Struggled into work again. Is it possible to wear a dressing gown in the office?
No matter how much i like a 3 piece suit, No matter how groovy it is to wear a sharp suit, cut away collar and tie. No matter how good it makes you feel. When you feel ill and dodgy, all you want to wear is baggy loose fitting comfy garments. similar to those worn in psychiatric units or care in the community cases. In essence clothing you have 'given up' in. You don't care. It must have stains on it. Be elasticated. Ill shapen and have a massive dressing gown draped over it. Pants must be baggy, like old fashioned Y-fronts your Grandfather wore. Fashion and Image plays no role in being ill.
You must walk slight crooked like you have shit yourself and sigh heavily in front of people so they say 'oh you poor thing, you look terrible'. That in my book is Ill man standard procedure.
Anyway, i Trojaned again in the office and left a little early again. I needed to rip of the suit and get my ill kit on. I checked the late afternoon viewing and was excited to see that not only was 'Quincy' feature length on Discovery +, but is was followed 'Sweeney' on ITV 4. Result.
I lay for a while, like someone from 'Dawn of the Dead', but in the end got sick off myself. I downed 3 acidophilus, a vitamin C and thought, fuck it I'm going to drag myself for a run at the gym and a long sauna. Try to sweat this little bastard out.
I put on several layers with a hoody, like i was dressed for Siberia and began the slowest 5 mile ever on the treadmill. I completed it in 8 days and sweated like like a Petrol Station Cashier at rush hour. I then sat in the sauna for a further 4 weeks and after a shower, felt reasonably human again. Thank god!!!
Not 100% but certainly better. Lets hope this continues tomorrow, but the bleak depression has lifted Man when i feel physically bad, it really affects my head. I go into a spiral of negativity and bleakness that not even a lottery win would shift. Life becomes black, hopeless, joyless and grim. Sex drives disappears and so does my spirit.
Well, no more for that. Tonight i shall sleep and have a big old pray up that my head shifts as does my spirit. That my physical improvement continues and i get back on the training plan and knock out a decent 8 miler. Tomorrow the shit TV is history and in the immortal words of Arnie, 'i'll be back'
xx
I have spent the week eating ultra healthily, drinking minimal tea and diet coke. Necking multi vitamins and acidophalis, downing the dreaded herbal tea, Sleeping and resting. Trying desperately not to fall into a deep dark mental abyss. So it was ultra gutting to wake up feeling like I'd been date raped by a gorilla. Grim
Struggled into work again. Is it possible to wear a dressing gown in the office?
No matter how much i like a 3 piece suit, No matter how groovy it is to wear a sharp suit, cut away collar and tie. No matter how good it makes you feel. When you feel ill and dodgy, all you want to wear is baggy loose fitting comfy garments. similar to those worn in psychiatric units or care in the community cases. In essence clothing you have 'given up' in. You don't care. It must have stains on it. Be elasticated. Ill shapen and have a massive dressing gown draped over it. Pants must be baggy, like old fashioned Y-fronts your Grandfather wore. Fashion and Image plays no role in being ill.
You must walk slight crooked like you have shit yourself and sigh heavily in front of people so they say 'oh you poor thing, you look terrible'. That in my book is Ill man standard procedure.
Anyway, i Trojaned again in the office and left a little early again. I needed to rip of the suit and get my ill kit on. I checked the late afternoon viewing and was excited to see that not only was 'Quincy' feature length on Discovery +, but is was followed 'Sweeney' on ITV 4. Result.
I lay for a while, like someone from 'Dawn of the Dead', but in the end got sick off myself. I downed 3 acidophilus, a vitamin C and thought, fuck it I'm going to drag myself for a run at the gym and a long sauna. Try to sweat this little bastard out.
I put on several layers with a hoody, like i was dressed for Siberia and began the slowest 5 mile ever on the treadmill. I completed it in 8 days and sweated like like a Petrol Station Cashier at rush hour. I then sat in the sauna for a further 4 weeks and after a shower, felt reasonably human again. Thank god!!!
Not 100% but certainly better. Lets hope this continues tomorrow, but the bleak depression has lifted Man when i feel physically bad, it really affects my head. I go into a spiral of negativity and bleakness that not even a lottery win would shift. Life becomes black, hopeless, joyless and grim. Sex drives disappears and so does my spirit.
Well, no more for that. Tonight i shall sleep and have a big old pray up that my head shifts as does my spirit. That my physical improvement continues and i get back on the training plan and knock out a decent 8 miler. Tomorrow the shit TV is history and in the immortal words of Arnie, 'i'll be back'
xx
Day 87 - Weds 28th March
Mileage 0 - Weekly Mileage 0
Middle of week. Wednesday. Right slap bang in the centre. The blues of Monday have worn off, the weekend still seems to be an age away. It's the cricket equivalent of 25 not out. You've played yourself in and now you are looking to cut loose. Well, at least i would be if i didn't feel so frigging crap.
Foggy, achey, chronic fatigue, headache, bloated and grim. It;s like Man flu without the flu. Stomach bug without the squirts. Hangover without the booze. I hate it.
Managed to drag myself into work and soldiered on like a right little Trojan. Can't say i pulled up any trees in the office. To say i wasn't on form is an understatement. Shuffling around, choosing to wear a bright tie to divert any attention away from my grim looking boat race (rhyming slang for face)
I left a little early, the only thing on my mind was a craving to lay down and sleep. Training and running unfortunately is off limits this evening. My mind is willing my body is not. Instead i had to go and deliver a talk in AA. The last place i wanted to be. Prizing myself off the sofa was like trying to wipe shit off a shoe, or tell Cameron to tell the truth. Almost impossible.
Always strange that the thing that makes me well, my medicine, daily contact with AA, listening and identifying with other alcoholics, creating a sense of perspective i simply lack on my own. All of these things which are so good for me, why then am i so reluctant to go? Why does the call of Junior Masterchef call louder than spiritual and emotional stability? Odd.
Anyway i went, did what i was asked to do and then hot footed it back to the sofa for a night of power kipping and sweating.
The thing that pleased me most today was spotting a girl at Barnes station decked in leopard skin leggings. A large girl, i thought finally Barnes had gone up in my estimations and reminded me of Llanelli. It gets so bland seeing yards of corduroy and chinos. Finally someone with bad which equates to good taste in my mind.
You can take the boy out of LLanelli, but it follows me everywhere. Christ i better get myself down to Greggs for a Corn Beef Pastie. Sadly in Barnes the only thing close to that I'll find is a Spinach and Ricotta slice. Still, as long as i empty a load of Fray Bentos onto it, I'll feel close to home.
Fingers crossed I'm better tomorrow. It's under 3 weeks to go now until the marathon, and the thought of running 26 yards makes me vomit, let alone 26 miles. I need to get better please god, and quick if you don't mind.
xx
Middle of week. Wednesday. Right slap bang in the centre. The blues of Monday have worn off, the weekend still seems to be an age away. It's the cricket equivalent of 25 not out. You've played yourself in and now you are looking to cut loose. Well, at least i would be if i didn't feel so frigging crap.
Foggy, achey, chronic fatigue, headache, bloated and grim. It;s like Man flu without the flu. Stomach bug without the squirts. Hangover without the booze. I hate it.
Managed to drag myself into work and soldiered on like a right little Trojan. Can't say i pulled up any trees in the office. To say i wasn't on form is an understatement. Shuffling around, choosing to wear a bright tie to divert any attention away from my grim looking boat race (rhyming slang for face)
I left a little early, the only thing on my mind was a craving to lay down and sleep. Training and running unfortunately is off limits this evening. My mind is willing my body is not. Instead i had to go and deliver a talk in AA. The last place i wanted to be. Prizing myself off the sofa was like trying to wipe shit off a shoe, or tell Cameron to tell the truth. Almost impossible.
Always strange that the thing that makes me well, my medicine, daily contact with AA, listening and identifying with other alcoholics, creating a sense of perspective i simply lack on my own. All of these things which are so good for me, why then am i so reluctant to go? Why does the call of Junior Masterchef call louder than spiritual and emotional stability? Odd.
Anyway i went, did what i was asked to do and then hot footed it back to the sofa for a night of power kipping and sweating.
The thing that pleased me most today was spotting a girl at Barnes station decked in leopard skin leggings. A large girl, i thought finally Barnes had gone up in my estimations and reminded me of Llanelli. It gets so bland seeing yards of corduroy and chinos. Finally someone with bad which equates to good taste in my mind.
You can take the boy out of LLanelli, but it follows me everywhere. Christ i better get myself down to Greggs for a Corn Beef Pastie. Sadly in Barnes the only thing close to that I'll find is a Spinach and Ricotta slice. Still, as long as i empty a load of Fray Bentos onto it, I'll feel close to home.
Fingers crossed I'm better tomorrow. It's under 3 weeks to go now until the marathon, and the thought of running 26 yards makes me vomit, let alone 26 miles. I need to get better please god, and quick if you don't mind.
xx
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Day 86 - Tuesday 27th March - ill!
Mileage 0 - Weekly Mileage 0 - Ill!
No training today on the account i woke up feeling like I'd been on the piss with Jocky Wilson, Oliver Reed and George Best. I felt like all 3 of them (RIP)
Headache, no energy, body aches, bad stomach. Man ill. Devastated.
I was immediately struck at two things that put me at a disadvantage today;
1 - I'm a man
2 - I'm a pussy
Both of these things clearly make me a terminal case today. I'll be lucky to reach lunchtime. I best put my affairs in order, though to be fair I've had more than enough of those in my time.
After a long sleep, i crawled to the sofa for a morning of Test Match Cricket, Homes Under the Hammer, Flog It and Bargain Hunt. The biggest brain thought i had was that Flog it pisses all over Cash In the Attic. That was the extent of my intellectual activity.
When i feel this ill, i have no energy, no desire to do anything, no concentration and i just want to veg and watch shit TV all day. Like being a student again really.
By lunchtime i had convinced myself i had M.E. That my Adrenal system was shutting down and i had something seriously wrong. Who needs 8 years in medical school when Dr Evans is on the ball? I prescribed myself Tomato Soup and Boiled eggs as a cure.
After feeling desperately sorry for myself, making tiny little groans and wondering where the barrage of calls and sympathy had got to, i dragged myself to the supermarket to get Man Ill goods. Grapes, tomato soup and lemsip Max. It was only me, the housewives, skivers, unemployed and retired wondering around Sainsburys. Not sure about Taste The Difference, but you could certainly taste melancholy in the air.
I hung around the pharmacy counter looking especially forlorn in the hope the fit girl behind the counter would take pity on me and nurse me for the next hour/day/week/month/year/life. She didn't look up.
Then it was back home to lay on sofa again, especially for the afternoon reruns of Minder and Only Fools and Horses. The TV equivalent of a hug.
I knew i was in trouble when i started crying at Only Fools. God, what's happening to me? I've let all mankind down. Still at least it wasn't to Rocky II. I always cry at that. Oh god, i noticed it's on later, pass the Kleenex, and that's for the tears, i haven't even got the energy for a good hard w............down boy, that's grim (sorry readers)
So, all in all a disappointing day. By the evening i felt a bit better and realised it wasn't terminal. It wasn't M.E and my adrenal system is holding up, whatever that is.
Gutted i couldn't train or do anything really, but if I'm being honest a small part of me loves being ill, as it gives me a non guilt reason and excuse to do absolutely nothing all day. A freedom pass to sloth. Tolerable fuck all.
Still, if i did that for my than 1 day i do think i would go mentally ill, even Judge Judy was being considered at one point, and that's before i even looked at Gabby Logan on Channel 5 and 'Escape to the Country'.
I survived readers, my Nan would be proud
xx
No training today on the account i woke up feeling like I'd been on the piss with Jocky Wilson, Oliver Reed and George Best. I felt like all 3 of them (RIP)
Headache, no energy, body aches, bad stomach. Man ill. Devastated.
I was immediately struck at two things that put me at a disadvantage today;
1 - I'm a man
2 - I'm a pussy
Both of these things clearly make me a terminal case today. I'll be lucky to reach lunchtime. I best put my affairs in order, though to be fair I've had more than enough of those in my time.
After a long sleep, i crawled to the sofa for a morning of Test Match Cricket, Homes Under the Hammer, Flog It and Bargain Hunt. The biggest brain thought i had was that Flog it pisses all over Cash In the Attic. That was the extent of my intellectual activity.
When i feel this ill, i have no energy, no desire to do anything, no concentration and i just want to veg and watch shit TV all day. Like being a student again really.
By lunchtime i had convinced myself i had M.E. That my Adrenal system was shutting down and i had something seriously wrong. Who needs 8 years in medical school when Dr Evans is on the ball? I prescribed myself Tomato Soup and Boiled eggs as a cure.
After feeling desperately sorry for myself, making tiny little groans and wondering where the barrage of calls and sympathy had got to, i dragged myself to the supermarket to get Man Ill goods. Grapes, tomato soup and lemsip Max. It was only me, the housewives, skivers, unemployed and retired wondering around Sainsburys. Not sure about Taste The Difference, but you could certainly taste melancholy in the air.
I hung around the pharmacy counter looking especially forlorn in the hope the fit girl behind the counter would take pity on me and nurse me for the next hour/day/week/month/year/life. She didn't look up.
Then it was back home to lay on sofa again, especially for the afternoon reruns of Minder and Only Fools and Horses. The TV equivalent of a hug.
I knew i was in trouble when i started crying at Only Fools. God, what's happening to me? I've let all mankind down. Still at least it wasn't to Rocky II. I always cry at that. Oh god, i noticed it's on later, pass the Kleenex, and that's for the tears, i haven't even got the energy for a good hard w............down boy, that's grim (sorry readers)
So, all in all a disappointing day. By the evening i felt a bit better and realised it wasn't terminal. It wasn't M.E and my adrenal system is holding up, whatever that is.
Gutted i couldn't train or do anything really, but if I'm being honest a small part of me loves being ill, as it gives me a non guilt reason and excuse to do absolutely nothing all day. A freedom pass to sloth. Tolerable fuck all.
Still, if i did that for my than 1 day i do think i would go mentally ill, even Judge Judy was being considered at one point, and that's before i even looked at Gabby Logan on Channel 5 and 'Escape to the Country'.
I survived readers, my Nan would be proud
xx
Monday, March 26, 2012
Day 85 - Monday 26th March
0 Miles - The day after the day before
Great news!! My Nan is home. She has been let out of hospital to be cared for at home. 73 years in the same house and all she has been focusing on has been getting home.
I spoke to her and she was so bubbly and happy. explaining she walked to the chair, got on the stairlift to go upstairs for herself. 96 years old, chronically ill and still full of spirit and determination. Unbelievable. A lesson to be learned.
Christ, makes my slight pains, niggles, stiffness and dog tiredness of the previous day's 20 miler insignificant. Left to my own devises i would have moaned all day long, though after hearing about Iron Nan, i felt better and full of admiration. Inspiration is a word banded around easily these days, but one can only admire her will. Plus of course her rock cakes and Victoria Sandwich.
However after yesterday's sugar binge rendering me totally knackered and yukky today on top of post long run fatigue, i won't be indulging in those for a while.
I've Decided to concentrate fully for next 4 weeks, to prepare properly. Eat well, cut right back on diet coke, caffeine and sugar again, rest well, stretch, run hard and put myself in a position to do my best. Oh and try and hit the grand mark on fund raising. God, a grand. Feel like i could hit alot more, but i have the feeling I've got something insane inside me to raise for the big one. cycle the world or run to the moon or something. I reckon i have a big one in me, but not yet sure what that will be. More will be revealed.
The only way to change is in action. I'm sure I've written that 456 times already in this blog!!! Secret is to do it, not write it. I shall keep you posted.
Big news of the day. Ironing boards are £96 in Homebase. What the fuck? £96. Now i've found another thing thats worth more than me. Who would pay £96 on an ironing board. re-goddamn-diculous. Even it is extra wide and non stick. i thought that was for frying pans. Man I'm out of touch with household goods. Baffling.
Fold out clothes horses were £50, Jesus that's 2/3rd's of me. A foldy metal thing versus a 39 year old Bucks Fizz lookalike, No contest in my eyes.
Back on the horse bloggers. I've realised I've been taking myself very seriously over the past 3-4 weeks, so back on track tomorrow. Healthy and happy please Mr Evans, and no more misery self obsessed guts thank you. Think of Iron Nan. In her words, "no-one likes a moaner". Mmmm, change needed. Clearly.
xx
Great news!! My Nan is home. She has been let out of hospital to be cared for at home. 73 years in the same house and all she has been focusing on has been getting home.
I spoke to her and she was so bubbly and happy. explaining she walked to the chair, got on the stairlift to go upstairs for herself. 96 years old, chronically ill and still full of spirit and determination. Unbelievable. A lesson to be learned.
Christ, makes my slight pains, niggles, stiffness and dog tiredness of the previous day's 20 miler insignificant. Left to my own devises i would have moaned all day long, though after hearing about Iron Nan, i felt better and full of admiration. Inspiration is a word banded around easily these days, but one can only admire her will. Plus of course her rock cakes and Victoria Sandwich.
However after yesterday's sugar binge rendering me totally knackered and yukky today on top of post long run fatigue, i won't be indulging in those for a while.
I've Decided to concentrate fully for next 4 weeks, to prepare properly. Eat well, cut right back on diet coke, caffeine and sugar again, rest well, stretch, run hard and put myself in a position to do my best. Oh and try and hit the grand mark on fund raising. God, a grand. Feel like i could hit alot more, but i have the feeling I've got something insane inside me to raise for the big one. cycle the world or run to the moon or something. I reckon i have a big one in me, but not yet sure what that will be. More will be revealed.
The only way to change is in action. I'm sure I've written that 456 times already in this blog!!! Secret is to do it, not write it. I shall keep you posted.
Big news of the day. Ironing boards are £96 in Homebase. What the fuck? £96. Now i've found another thing thats worth more than me. Who would pay £96 on an ironing board. re-goddamn-diculous. Even it is extra wide and non stick. i thought that was for frying pans. Man I'm out of touch with household goods. Baffling.
Fold out clothes horses were £50, Jesus that's 2/3rd's of me. A foldy metal thing versus a 39 year old Bucks Fizz lookalike, No contest in my eyes.
Back on the horse bloggers. I've realised I've been taking myself very seriously over the past 3-4 weeks, so back on track tomorrow. Healthy and happy please Mr Evans, and no more misery self obsessed guts thank you. Think of Iron Nan. In her words, "no-one likes a moaner". Mmmm, change needed. Clearly.
xx
Day 84 - Sunday 25th March - 20 Miler!
20 MILES; TIME 2 HRS 51 MINS; WEEKLY MILEAGE 52
Yeeeeesssssssssss!!!!!!! Finally he's done it. The Prince of Procrastination. The King of Manyana (however that's spelt) The God of putting it off, has finally 'Man uped', and knocked out a cheekly little 20 miler.
After putting it off for weeks (readers I've had several opportunities to go long really, I've just stopped on 14,16 and 18) i had to do it today. There would be no going back. 4 weeks until marathon day today and 20 milers simply have to be done.
Sometimes you can fool yourself into thinking you can scrimp on the ultra long runs if you've done a few marathons before. But then you remember the pain and wall of last year, when i imploded on 19 miles because i simply hadnt done enough mileage.
You can do 13 miles all day long in training, feeling comfortable, but on a marathon it really kicks in on the 18-20 mile point, and if you haven't gone through it, you enter a world of pain similar to that of an S&M dungeon. It's not pleasant. And it spoils the magic of the day.
So, i need to do two 20 milers, to feel i am in good shape for it. It looms on my mind and i really don't want to do it. Finding almost any reason not too. Niggle, conserve energy, next week, not right conditions blah blah blah. It's all self induced bullshit and the magic monkey mind trying to deter me from what's needed. Standard practice on Radio Nick Evans FM.
So, i put all that to one side, hit an early morning meeting, ate 4 oat cakes, a banana, some water, tea, lucozade sport, strapped on the tri suit and took an old school Kendalls Mint cake with me. No music. No distractions. Just me and the mileage. The sun was shining. the temperature was 15 degrees. No excuses.
I had decided my route. I went along Barnes riverside to Richmond, again, up Richmond hill (the best view in London from the side of Pete Townsends gaff , the Wick, overlooking the Thames from Richmond Hill Terrace) to Richmond Park. 7 miles, 56 mins. Stop, drink, nibble, then lap of Richmond Park, 7 miles, 1 hour. Struggled a bit but otherwise OK. Mentally it's tough and the hard part is mile 14-18. Stop at end of park, piss (which is hard in a tri suit as it does look like you are pulling one off in the bushes because you have to crouch to get the old chappy out), drink rest of drink, finish off Kendall Mint Cake and then back along where i came from, past Richmond riverside (packed) and along the towpath to Barnes.
Instead of dodging mobility scooters like last week in Llanelli, today it was massive Baby Buggies, like 4x4's with confused little babies in them wondering why they need a £600 buggie for a 300 yard walk. Such an obvious sign of wealth and demographic breakdown in areas between the two.
I hit a dodgy patch near Kew Bridge on mile 16/17, but then weirdly got faster and stronger for the last 3 miles of the run and 30 minutes. I was pleased to see Barnes Bridge and finished at the cafe on 2 hours 51 minutes. 20 miles. Done. Legs hurt. Body sore. Toes hurting. But fuck me, yes i'd done it. Result.
I managed to remember stretching, collapsed indoors then went out for an enormous Sunday lunch in the Red Lion pub garden and ate my own body weight in Sausage and Mash, veg and chunky chips. I was having a carb fest. It was sunny. i'd done 20 miles. Man wanted Man food. Caesar salad just wouldn't do. Man food would.
Mate Burge came round in the evening, he unloaded his life with 3 kids under 3, how little sleep he got, mess, building work. He said his life on hold for 5 years until they go to Nursery. I'm never moaning again. I have it easy compared to him. But he did say he has 3 beautiful children and nothing can ever compare to that. bless him. But i'll pass on the kids thing for a while anyway. I can barely manage to decide on breakfast let alone bring up a little person.
Then i let my good work down by eating lots of junk late at night, custard, crumpets, biscuits, ice cream, malt loaf. Christ Malt loaf must be a bulimics nightmare, like trying to bring up brickwork. Best not do it kids. I think because you exert so much, blood sugar levels drop so much, that late on you crave so much food, sugar, energy. I would have walked across hot coals for Taste the Difference Vanilla custard. Instead i drove the the 24 hour garage and got some. I like living in London.
I Fell asleep exhausted. Custard stains all over my mouth like a child. Happy i did the 20 miles, unhappy i binged. On one hand the lord giveth, on the other he scoffs the lot the greedy sod.
Onwards and upwards tomorrow camper, i feel a day of restricted movement coming on
xx
Yeeeeesssssssssss!!!!!!! Finally he's done it. The Prince of Procrastination. The King of Manyana (however that's spelt) The God of putting it off, has finally 'Man uped', and knocked out a cheekly little 20 miler.
After putting it off for weeks (readers I've had several opportunities to go long really, I've just stopped on 14,16 and 18) i had to do it today. There would be no going back. 4 weeks until marathon day today and 20 milers simply have to be done.
Sometimes you can fool yourself into thinking you can scrimp on the ultra long runs if you've done a few marathons before. But then you remember the pain and wall of last year, when i imploded on 19 miles because i simply hadnt done enough mileage.
You can do 13 miles all day long in training, feeling comfortable, but on a marathon it really kicks in on the 18-20 mile point, and if you haven't gone through it, you enter a world of pain similar to that of an S&M dungeon. It's not pleasant. And it spoils the magic of the day.
So, i need to do two 20 milers, to feel i am in good shape for it. It looms on my mind and i really don't want to do it. Finding almost any reason not too. Niggle, conserve energy, next week, not right conditions blah blah blah. It's all self induced bullshit and the magic monkey mind trying to deter me from what's needed. Standard practice on Radio Nick Evans FM.
So, i put all that to one side, hit an early morning meeting, ate 4 oat cakes, a banana, some water, tea, lucozade sport, strapped on the tri suit and took an old school Kendalls Mint cake with me. No music. No distractions. Just me and the mileage. The sun was shining. the temperature was 15 degrees. No excuses.
I had decided my route. I went along Barnes riverside to Richmond, again, up Richmond hill (the best view in London from the side of Pete Townsends gaff , the Wick, overlooking the Thames from Richmond Hill Terrace) to Richmond Park. 7 miles, 56 mins. Stop, drink, nibble, then lap of Richmond Park, 7 miles, 1 hour. Struggled a bit but otherwise OK. Mentally it's tough and the hard part is mile 14-18. Stop at end of park, piss (which is hard in a tri suit as it does look like you are pulling one off in the bushes because you have to crouch to get the old chappy out), drink rest of drink, finish off Kendall Mint Cake and then back along where i came from, past Richmond riverside (packed) and along the towpath to Barnes.
Instead of dodging mobility scooters like last week in Llanelli, today it was massive Baby Buggies, like 4x4's with confused little babies in them wondering why they need a £600 buggie for a 300 yard walk. Such an obvious sign of wealth and demographic breakdown in areas between the two.
I hit a dodgy patch near Kew Bridge on mile 16/17, but then weirdly got faster and stronger for the last 3 miles of the run and 30 minutes. I was pleased to see Barnes Bridge and finished at the cafe on 2 hours 51 minutes. 20 miles. Done. Legs hurt. Body sore. Toes hurting. But fuck me, yes i'd done it. Result.
I managed to remember stretching, collapsed indoors then went out for an enormous Sunday lunch in the Red Lion pub garden and ate my own body weight in Sausage and Mash, veg and chunky chips. I was having a carb fest. It was sunny. i'd done 20 miles. Man wanted Man food. Caesar salad just wouldn't do. Man food would.
Mate Burge came round in the evening, he unloaded his life with 3 kids under 3, how little sleep he got, mess, building work. He said his life on hold for 5 years until they go to Nursery. I'm never moaning again. I have it easy compared to him. But he did say he has 3 beautiful children and nothing can ever compare to that. bless him. But i'll pass on the kids thing for a while anyway. I can barely manage to decide on breakfast let alone bring up a little person.
Then i let my good work down by eating lots of junk late at night, custard, crumpets, biscuits, ice cream, malt loaf. Christ Malt loaf must be a bulimics nightmare, like trying to bring up brickwork. Best not do it kids. I think because you exert so much, blood sugar levels drop so much, that late on you crave so much food, sugar, energy. I would have walked across hot coals for Taste the Difference Vanilla custard. Instead i drove the the 24 hour garage and got some. I like living in London.
I Fell asleep exhausted. Custard stains all over my mouth like a child. Happy i did the 20 miles, unhappy i binged. On one hand the lord giveth, on the other he scoffs the lot the greedy sod.
Onwards and upwards tomorrow camper, i feel a day of restricted movement coming on
xx
Day 83 - Saturday 24th March
Mileage 11 – Time 1 hour 27 mins; Weekly Mileage 32 miles
Woke up feeling refreshed and alive. A beautiful spring morning. The tired and negative gloom of the last few days has lifted. The clocks are going forward tonight. It’s British Summer Time. The sky is blue and this weekend I am zoned into training and running fuck loads of miles. Bring it on.
First I slapped in a couple of meetings, followed by tea with a wise old owl who offered me some great advice. Focus. Pick something you love and work hard at it. Make a success of it.
Great advice. Trouble is. What the fuck do I want to do? I feel like a teenager. I dabble in bit of comedy club, bit personal training, bit of helping others, bit of charity, bit of marketing professional. Not really sure what I want to do when I grow up. Trouble is I’m 40 this year. The clock is ticking. Oh god I sound like a girl. Maybe the fact my Mum pretended I was a girl for the first 2 days of my life is coming back to haunt me!!
I’m so indecisive at the best of times. Yoga, run, gym, meeting? Beach, activity, spiritual or traveling holiday? Hair back or down? Flip flops or boots? The list of crucial decisions is endless. So, to pick something I really want to do at the moment and follow it through is proving somewhat tricky. I’m praying hard for the guidance and focus but I’m yet to see the answer. I know that Stationary isn’t the answer though.
Then after fighting through the Chelsea traffic, it was back and out for a run. I was indecisive whether to do long run today or tomorrow. I came up with all kinds of plausible reasons why I should delay long run until tomorrow. All of them rational and understandable. But strip them all the way, get to the heart of it really and the truth is…..couldn’t be arsed! There said it. Why do something today that you can put off until tomorrow. Not exactly the new me is it?
Anyway, sod that. It was a beautiful day so off I popped along the river from Barnes to Richmond (6 miles) It was totally packed as the weather was so nice, I ran into Richmond Park, through the park and back to Barnes. Total of 10 miles. Felt good and strong though was flagging a little at the end and was pleased I wasn’t trying to add another 10 miles on. God I hate the long ones!!
I was pleased with my effort though and ended up getting a drink in Barnes and walking around the Farmers Market. It struck me I hadn’t seen more of a middle class place in ages. My god. Even the ducks in the pond quack quietly.
Sums it up they sell Scotch Quails Eggs for £4.50 a pop in the farmers Market. My god. The Market stalls are made of corduroy and the local chippie serves cod and chips in the Daily Mail. A chip buttie is served in Focaccia and there are strict dress codes in the pubs that Men are only allowed entry if they pull their collars up, drape a casual jumper over their shoulders and wear deck shoes.
Leopard Print leggings are banned sadly. It is like living in a pull out section of The Daily Telegraph. I bet they get Jeremy Clarkson to turn on the Christmas Lights.
Still, i cannot escape i am indeed middle class. Maybe my angst and hatred comes from my lack of acceptance of this. I even own a body warmer for Christs Sake. I have over 10 v-neck jumpers and I've even taken to wearing blazer and jeans. Kill me now.
Evening was chilled and other than the dreadful disappointment of Liverpool FC losing at home to Wigan, i went to sleep early and kipped like a little trooper. I'm going to need it. It's the dreaded 20 miler tomorrow!
PS - Made the terrible error of ringing my 2 best mates who have 2 and 3 young kids respectively. It sounded like ringing up Kate Adey in the middle of war torn Somalia. They both said to me, 'you show your lack of having children experience there. Never ever ring between 4-8pm. Bath and feeding time renders the world outside off limits.' Fair enough. I learnt my lesson.
xx
Day 82 - Friday 23rd March
Mileage 0 – Weekly Mileage 21 miles
How the hell do people have kids? Jesus I am so lucky that all my lack of sleep is self-induced. At least i can catch up. People who have kids have to wait around 5 years to catch up with kip. I have no idea how they do it. Once again I aim a long nod of respect to my married and kidded up pals. You are true legends. Though I doubt they would have the energy to nod back without dropping off.
My god, so tired today. 4 hours sleep after being keyed up from Comedy last night. I’m not great on 4 hours or less sleep. Hard to concentrate, ultra short tempered and want to eat everything in my path. In short, like I'm pregnant, or a bus driver. It was going to be a long day.
Apparently Churchill and Thatcher survived on 4 hours sleep. Then again they entered the country into 3 wars and 2 recessions. I'll keep my head down today.
How the hell do people have kids? Jesus I am so lucky that all my lack of sleep is self-induced. At least i can catch up. People who have kids have to wait around 5 years to catch up with kip. I have no idea how they do it. Once again I aim a long nod of respect to my married and kidded up pals. You are true legends. Though I doubt they would have the energy to nod back without dropping off.
Luckily it was the world’s most unproductive day. I set a new world record of inactivity. Although to be fair, I sent 2 emails and ordered 2 sets of new letter headed paper. It was that thrilling. I managed to avoid any kind of work until I managed to slope off at 4pm for a long sleep on the sofa.
It was then Friday night. Classic. Friday nights are the best time of the week. Where the week’s frustrations can be exorcised. A night to party. To break out. To rock and roll!
I watched Midsomer Murder and went to bed.
More Sausage Roll than Rock and Roll
Xx
Day 81 - Thursday 22nd March
Mileage – 10 miles; Time – 1 hour 21 minutes; Weekly Mileage 21 miles
It mirrors the Marathon. Coasting, ‘getting by’. Putting in some hard work, but doing just enough and consequently ‘chalking it off’ rather than enjoying the moment and experience and working hard at trying to achieve a goal. Leaving the outcome, after putting in the preparation. God it’s like a metaphor of my life.
So the day of Le Comedy arrives. It’s the day of the month I fear the most. Why? Because it’s total fear and low self-esteem. I am shitting bricks. Even though I have been doing it for 14 months. Even though I know that lots of people are coming. Even though the acts are booked and good. Even though the music is booked and even though I’ve got some awesome raffle items and on paper everything is set up. I’m still nervy and worried.
Why? I rarely prepare and learn new jokes and material. I don’t book other gigs and practice. I’m locked in self and too serious, which then makes me louder and more aggressive on stage (Oh god am I one of those people mistaking shouting louder and being ruder and more shocking, to make up for basic comedic skills?)
I am so concerned and worried if enough people will show up, will the acts be any good, will the PA work, where will everyone sit, what do I say? Can I remember any material I may have written? I almost forget to relax and enjoy it.
I was telling myself to keep it simple, that I’m the compere, let the comedians tell the jokes, but why am I doing it, if not to try and work some material into my time on stage?
People say I’m funny and would like to see more of me. So why don’t I do it? What is stopping me? Fear, sloth, self-doubt. I am worried that my material is not good enough, real enough to me or will not be funny. Yet I never spend enough time trying to craft it, make it work, make it relevant to me. I am overwhelmed and under prepared. Wow, what a great attitude to be a comedian. I am almost such a lazy sod and i spend so much time doing 'avoidance hobbies'. Hours doing things i shouldn't be doing instead of using the time constructively. That seems to be my biggest challenge. God, if i had channeled all of the time into writing i would have a book by now. Or into DIY iwould have a house by now. Instead i've a massively Strong right arm and a deep knowledge of women.
It mirrors the Marathon. Coasting, ‘getting by’. Putting in some hard work, but doing just enough and consequently ‘chalking it off’ rather than enjoying the moment and experience and working hard at trying to achieve a goal. Leaving the outcome, after putting in the preparation. God it’s like a metaphor of my life.
Am I to sit and complain about this frustrating no man’s land I place myself in (for years) or am I to do something about it?
The only answer is to Do something about it of course. So here's how it went;
The day was spent picking up raffle items for tonight, including a great fresh organic meat raffle from Butchers, last minute things and organizing. Managed to cram in a reasonably swift 10 mile run along the river and Richmond Park, which left me feeling exhausted!
Then I did my usual and spent the final 2 hours before Comedy trying desperately to write and learn some last minute material, which of course I’m going to forget as soon as I get up in front of people. Not sure even the professionals can do that! (AND I’M NOT TALKING ABOUT BODIE & DOYLE)
So, how did it go? (and why is this fucking thing in capitals? the computer keyboard has decided to freeze in capitals so i apologise)
78 people turned up, it was rammed, comedians were great, people enjoyed it & we raised a few hundred quid for the charity, action on addiction. whats not to like? a resounding success right?
so why did i feel so empty? i knew i hid behind doing raffle, auction, music breaks etc. i knew the truth and the truth is deep down i bottled it. seems like i’m being ultra harsh on myself, but i won’t be truly happy until i know i’ve done myself justice, been true to myself, put the effort in and left the result up to a higher power.
not hide behind props and ‘fillers’ because i’m scared and too serious about me.
time to stop that shit. would it really matter if people didn’t laugh if i knew i’d done the prep and liked what i’d DONE? believed in it. a cause. in myself? No – it wouldn’t.
so, i think, yes i can learn from this. trouble is i’ve felt this way off on and on for 10 years. time enough to change, as i have tried to do several times, but it doesn’t last. so today i am hoping that by airing it, grassing myself up, it will help to instigate the change.
oh, and final thing – i auctioned myself off for charity at the end of the night. how much did i fetch? eighty quid. Eighty fucking quid? Jesus christ, I'm officially worth less than an ipod. says it all really. even kettles are worth more than me. not good for self esteem or the charity. still, thanks alex for paying it. she cheered me up a little by saying she would have gone up to £300. But disappointingly you can book Lionel Blair for less than me. back to the drawing board!
don't give up the fight!
xx
Day 80 - Weds 21st March
Mileage 5 - Time 40 mins; Weekly mileage 11 miles
Up early doors today due to massively long day at work and tonight doing the Gaucho Polo at the 02. Should be fun, but meant an early doors run which if i'm being honest, i find rather tough. As usually when i wake up, i have about as much energy as a Duracel Bunny with M.E. on empty.
Today i dragged my arse along the Thames path from Barnes to Putney. The sun was out and it was peaceful, save for some ultra keen rowers and dog walkers. it was a nice gentle start to the day and so nice to be near water at the start of the day.
Bad diet last night meant today was a bit of a struggle. Work passed in a blur and then went to the 02 in the afternoon, as my company were sponsoring the Irish Polo team. Posh lunch with them at Gaucho, i learnt all about Polo. I even sounded like i knew what the hell i was talking about after downloading all the inside info from them. 3 players, 4 chuckers, 6 minutes each blah blah zzzzzzz.
VIP lounge was pretty dull, Katie Price the resident Celeb, and in she swanned for the Paps as i was welcoming our guests. Strange life celebrity. I suppose fame and attention is like another addiction, and you crave it. Still, i was distinctly underwhelmed, and smiled at her pretty boy boyfriend as he followed in her shadow like a faithful little lapdog. Not good for the man pride i wouldn't have thought. He may as well have been wearing a Man bag too.
Had a good night though, enjoyed the event. Packed full of fit women, so many sloany types around too. it was almost the opposite of Asda Llanelli. Even the MC was called Tarquin. I can't help but think MC Asda Llanelli would have made a better job of it.
Still, 5 mile run, busy day and great event at the 02. Not a bad day i suppose
xx
Up early doors today due to massively long day at work and tonight doing the Gaucho Polo at the 02. Should be fun, but meant an early doors run which if i'm being honest, i find rather tough. As usually when i wake up, i have about as much energy as a Duracel Bunny with M.E. on empty.
Today i dragged my arse along the Thames path from Barnes to Putney. The sun was out and it was peaceful, save for some ultra keen rowers and dog walkers. it was a nice gentle start to the day and so nice to be near water at the start of the day.
Bad diet last night meant today was a bit of a struggle. Work passed in a blur and then went to the 02 in the afternoon, as my company were sponsoring the Irish Polo team. Posh lunch with them at Gaucho, i learnt all about Polo. I even sounded like i knew what the hell i was talking about after downloading all the inside info from them. 3 players, 4 chuckers, 6 minutes each blah blah zzzzzzz.
VIP lounge was pretty dull, Katie Price the resident Celeb, and in she swanned for the Paps as i was welcoming our guests. Strange life celebrity. I suppose fame and attention is like another addiction, and you crave it. Still, i was distinctly underwhelmed, and smiled at her pretty boy boyfriend as he followed in her shadow like a faithful little lapdog. Not good for the man pride i wouldn't have thought. He may as well have been wearing a Man bag too.
Had a good night though, enjoyed the event. Packed full of fit women, so many sloany types around too. it was almost the opposite of Asda Llanelli. Even the MC was called Tarquin. I can't help but think MC Asda Llanelli would have made a better job of it.
Still, 5 mile run, busy day and great event at the 02. Not a bad day i suppose
xx
Thursday, March 22, 2012
Day 79 - Tuesday 20th March
Mileage 0 - Weekly Mileage 6
A day when bugger all happened other than i attempted to break the world Grape, Apple and Ice Cream eating record. Reckon i got close, but had to stop at 3/4 my body weight. If it ferments in my gut is that officially a relapse?
The only other thing of note is the lovely Angela from Singapore sponsoring me, so a massive thank you and shout out to the Singapore Posse. Apparently I've got a nice little following going over there for this blog. Nice to know my mad ramblings from SW London reach out to such exotic places. Writing this in Mortlake at the moment. About the only thing exotic I've got going on is a Solero. God i love those little bastards
Big love all
xx
A day when bugger all happened other than i attempted to break the world Grape, Apple and Ice Cream eating record. Reckon i got close, but had to stop at 3/4 my body weight. If it ferments in my gut is that officially a relapse?
The only other thing of note is the lovely Angela from Singapore sponsoring me, so a massive thank you and shout out to the Singapore Posse. Apparently I've got a nice little following going over there for this blog. Nice to know my mad ramblings from SW London reach out to such exotic places. Writing this in Mortlake at the moment. About the only thing exotic I've got going on is a Solero. God i love those little bastards
Big love all
xx
Monday, March 19, 2012
Day 78 - Monday 19th March - Oh god it's Monday
Mileage - 6; Time 46 minutes; Weekly Mileage 6
Oh god it's Monday. Bugger F***, F*** bugger t*ts, w**k, bugger b***cks. Monday morning. Start of the week. A time to start off fresh, full of hope, momentum and positive energy. Bursting with intent. A big to do list. Bring on the world, let me at it................then the alarm went, switched it off, rolled over, to sleep. F*** that, the week can wait. Homes Under the hammer Theme Tune can wake me up. I know it will be 10am then.
Nah, only kidding. Up and at em early doors. Tea, shower. rice cake, silk cut, pray, gratitude list, suit on, tie knotted, get knotted. Barnes station. Order tea, buy Times, wait 2 trains for overcrowding. squeeze on 3rd carriage, stand into Waterloo. City Line, delays. Queue, shuffle on train, shuffle off train. Russian Cafe, tea waiting, 85p. Into office. Morning all - kill me now. That's the morning routine. Thrilling huh?
Slow day really, spent trying desperately to avoid doing anything. Not a great attitude is it. Still, i don't think anyone sussed me as a looked super slick in my suit, tie and dazzling 80's short back and sides. (if anyone i work with or my Boss is reading this i merely say that for comic effect, truth is i worked like a little Trojan all day - The stationary was top class today. No fresh orders to report)
Left early doors to help organise my friend back from treatment, thankfully sober, clean and sporting a new found 'i don't want to kill myself' through drinking myself to death attitude anymore, which i have to say is a refreshing change. Good news, life may become slightly easier all round.
Got out early evening for a reasonably rapid 6 miler, as light was fading by the Thames. Felt OK, pretty good after 14 miles yesterday and always good to get out on a Monday and get some swift miles under your belt. Was slightly handicapped by extraordinary wind on mile 3. It took around 400 metres and several joined up quacks to rid me of it, luckily it was at a point on the river which was densely populated by several ducks. They seemed disturbed, as i made the noise of a group of super ducks quacking. But i think i got away with it. The lady running the other way gave me a look that i couldn't work out. Was it disgust at me or the ducks. Who knows and frankly who cares. I'm sure the ducks aren't writing about it in their duck blog tonight, though you never know.
Mammy Duck - "Hard day darling? Quack...
Daddy Duck "Yes darling i spent all day on the river you know just floating up and down"
Mammy - "Anything happen?"
Daddy - "Yes there was this 80's throwback human running along the river in big gay lycra, all us ducks had a right quackle at him. Anyway he let out a series of farts he thought were quacks. You could tell he was embarrassed. But there was this real fittie running opposite and he stared at her and tried to palm off the sound and smell on us lot. You know just by a look. Funny thing he thought he got away with it, but when the woman ran past him the other way round she held her nose, looked at us. winked. waved her hand to acknowledge the smell, looked back at him and did the wanker sign, all unbeknown to him. Funny what you see on the River"
Mammy - "That's funny darling. Now dinner's ready"
Daddy - "MMMM, i'm starving, what have we got?"
Mammy "Your Uncle A L'Orange"
Daddy - "Gumph"
Meeting at night, shared, felt better. Night
xxx
Oh god it's Monday. Bugger F***, F*** bugger t*ts, w**k, bugger b***cks. Monday morning. Start of the week. A time to start off fresh, full of hope, momentum and positive energy. Bursting with intent. A big to do list. Bring on the world, let me at it................then the alarm went, switched it off, rolled over, to sleep. F*** that, the week can wait. Homes Under the hammer Theme Tune can wake me up. I know it will be 10am then.
Nah, only kidding. Up and at em early doors. Tea, shower. rice cake, silk cut, pray, gratitude list, suit on, tie knotted, get knotted. Barnes station. Order tea, buy Times, wait 2 trains for overcrowding. squeeze on 3rd carriage, stand into Waterloo. City Line, delays. Queue, shuffle on train, shuffle off train. Russian Cafe, tea waiting, 85p. Into office. Morning all - kill me now. That's the morning routine. Thrilling huh?
Slow day really, spent trying desperately to avoid doing anything. Not a great attitude is it. Still, i don't think anyone sussed me as a looked super slick in my suit, tie and dazzling 80's short back and sides. (if anyone i work with or my Boss is reading this i merely say that for comic effect, truth is i worked like a little Trojan all day - The stationary was top class today. No fresh orders to report)
Left early doors to help organise my friend back from treatment, thankfully sober, clean and sporting a new found 'i don't want to kill myself' through drinking myself to death attitude anymore, which i have to say is a refreshing change. Good news, life may become slightly easier all round.
Got out early evening for a reasonably rapid 6 miler, as light was fading by the Thames. Felt OK, pretty good after 14 miles yesterday and always good to get out on a Monday and get some swift miles under your belt. Was slightly handicapped by extraordinary wind on mile 3. It took around 400 metres and several joined up quacks to rid me of it, luckily it was at a point on the river which was densely populated by several ducks. They seemed disturbed, as i made the noise of a group of super ducks quacking. But i think i got away with it. The lady running the other way gave me a look that i couldn't work out. Was it disgust at me or the ducks. Who knows and frankly who cares. I'm sure the ducks aren't writing about it in their duck blog tonight, though you never know.
Mammy Duck - "Hard day darling? Quack...
Daddy Duck "Yes darling i spent all day on the river you know just floating up and down"
Mammy - "Anything happen?"
Daddy - "Yes there was this 80's throwback human running along the river in big gay lycra, all us ducks had a right quackle at him. Anyway he let out a series of farts he thought were quacks. You could tell he was embarrassed. But there was this real fittie running opposite and he stared at her and tried to palm off the sound and smell on us lot. You know just by a look. Funny thing he thought he got away with it, but when the woman ran past him the other way round she held her nose, looked at us. winked. waved her hand to acknowledge the smell, looked back at him and did the wanker sign, all unbeknown to him. Funny what you see on the River"
Mammy - "That's funny darling. Now dinner's ready"
Daddy - "MMMM, i'm starving, what have we got?"
Mammy "Your Uncle A L'Orange"
Daddy - "Gumph"
Meeting at night, shared, felt better. Night
xxx
Sunday, March 18, 2012
Day 77 - Sunday 18th March
Mileage 14 - Time 1hour 47mins - Weekly Mileage 34miles
Mothering Sunday. Llanelli. South Wales. Brymoor Road. 7am. Awake early. Intention? 20 miles. Feeling? Crap. Ate cornflakes, banana, yogurt, tea, wine gums. Buggered around, felt very lethargic, tired and non motivated. Come on Nick, you have to do 20. Considered all my options and then went back to bed to sleep for an hour. Not a great start to proceedings!
Woke at 8.30am, got my kit together, really didn't want to run at all. But dragged myself out of the door. Weather was sunny, damp, fresh but otherwise OK. That sodding diet coke, sweetener and high sugar week has made my Candida, or whatever it is come back strong and made me ultra lethargic. Not a great physical state to be attempting 20 miler.
Decided to aim for 14 instead, time is short. Lunch booked for 1pm sharp and visiting duties at hospital are important. Today is mothers day so i can't be late for the lunch. Besides it's a Perfect excuse to cut short Le Long One. Im such a lazy sod today.
Set out along same route as last week. Llanelli beach, coastal path to Burry Port Harbour and beyond. The sea was out, the estuary and Gower Coast looked amazing, but man did i feel like left over Turkey at Christmas. Dreadful.
The first 30 minutes were a real drag, Mental and Physical. I wanted to stop. I was slow. It was Grim. I got into my stride a little after that and i have to say ran very strong from 35 minutes onwards. I told myself i had to push hard to try and at least make today worthwhile and prepare for Marathon. i did first 7 miles in 56 minutes and returned for the last in 51 minutes.
I ran the last 10 miles on pure resentment for fake treatment centres and people charging for addicts at a low ebb and effectively taking advantage of people at their lowest ebb. I was fuming but man did it help me run strong and long.
Finished feeling pretty knackered but quite delighted i managed to pull a reasonably swift 14 miler out of the bag whilst feeling shit. I really must do two 20 milers before marathon but at least today wasn't a total write off.
I was done by 11.30am, strange to think my Uncle Ken was already at Sunday Lunch. Ordering Roast Lamb And those, on it there.
Then it was out to lunch with me Mammy and Aunt Gwynie to what if i'm being brutally honest was a traditional working class Welsh country pub. Nowt wrong with that. Packed full of families attracted by the ultra cheap and colossal lunches. It was all paper table clothes. garden chairs and Brains Bitter at 1.90 a pint. Therewarthen.
Lunch was ordered and they proceeded to bring out a table full of side dishes and Veg that would have fed the Welsh Grand Slam team. There were 3 of us. The Mashed Potato was effectively like a White Afro. Jesus i was going to require more commitment and stamina than on my 14 miles this morning, but i gave it a dam good go.
We polished off the lunch and then it was time to go an visit my Nan again, where the whole family gathered at her bedside. First time we'd all been together in ages. All the generations, nieces, grandsons, daughter. It was lovely and touching and showed out of death comes life. It was like a family fragmented and disrupted by alcoholism repairing and coming together. It was full of love and i know it made my Mum so happy on mothering Sunday. My nan was deeply touched too. It was heartwarming and beautiful.
Ward 1 was a happy place for 60 minutes. Other families were visiting the poor ladies in the ward and it made me appreciate love and time spent with people is the biggest sign of love. It made me happy and sad at the same time.
Mothering Sunday. Llanelli. South Wales. Brymoor Road. 7am. Awake early. Intention? 20 miles. Feeling? Crap. Ate cornflakes, banana, yogurt, tea, wine gums. Buggered around, felt very lethargic, tired and non motivated. Come on Nick, you have to do 20. Considered all my options and then went back to bed to sleep for an hour. Not a great start to proceedings!
Woke at 8.30am, got my kit together, really didn't want to run at all. But dragged myself out of the door. Weather was sunny, damp, fresh but otherwise OK. That sodding diet coke, sweetener and high sugar week has made my Candida, or whatever it is come back strong and made me ultra lethargic. Not a great physical state to be attempting 20 miler.
Decided to aim for 14 instead, time is short. Lunch booked for 1pm sharp and visiting duties at hospital are important. Today is mothers day so i can't be late for the lunch. Besides it's a Perfect excuse to cut short Le Long One. Im such a lazy sod today.
Set out along same route as last week. Llanelli beach, coastal path to Burry Port Harbour and beyond. The sea was out, the estuary and Gower Coast looked amazing, but man did i feel like left over Turkey at Christmas. Dreadful.
The first 30 minutes were a real drag, Mental and Physical. I wanted to stop. I was slow. It was Grim. I got into my stride a little after that and i have to say ran very strong from 35 minutes onwards. I told myself i had to push hard to try and at least make today worthwhile and prepare for Marathon. i did first 7 miles in 56 minutes and returned for the last in 51 minutes.
I ran the last 10 miles on pure resentment for fake treatment centres and people charging for addicts at a low ebb and effectively taking advantage of people at their lowest ebb. I was fuming but man did it help me run strong and long.
Finished feeling pretty knackered but quite delighted i managed to pull a reasonably swift 14 miler out of the bag whilst feeling shit. I really must do two 20 milers before marathon but at least today wasn't a total write off.
I was done by 11.30am, strange to think my Uncle Ken was already at Sunday Lunch. Ordering Roast Lamb And those, on it there.
Then it was out to lunch with me Mammy and Aunt Gwynie to what if i'm being brutally honest was a traditional working class Welsh country pub. Nowt wrong with that. Packed full of families attracted by the ultra cheap and colossal lunches. It was all paper table clothes. garden chairs and Brains Bitter at 1.90 a pint. Therewarthen.
Lunch was ordered and they proceeded to bring out a table full of side dishes and Veg that would have fed the Welsh Grand Slam team. There were 3 of us. The Mashed Potato was effectively like a White Afro. Jesus i was going to require more commitment and stamina than on my 14 miles this morning, but i gave it a dam good go.
We polished off the lunch and then it was time to go an visit my Nan again, where the whole family gathered at her bedside. First time we'd all been together in ages. All the generations, nieces, grandsons, daughter. It was lovely and touching and showed out of death comes life. It was like a family fragmented and disrupted by alcoholism repairing and coming together. It was full of love and i know it made my Mum so happy on mothering Sunday. My nan was deeply touched too. It was heartwarming and beautiful.
Ward 1 was a happy place for 60 minutes. Other families were visiting the poor ladies in the ward and it made me appreciate love and time spent with people is the biggest sign of love. It made me happy and sad at the same time.
So it turned out to be a lovely little visit. Particularly as outside the hospital it showed the essence of Llanelli. Several Mobility scooters and a smattering of harsh looking old girls heavily made up and sucking furiously on endless Lambert & Butlers indulging in heavy 'Nonversation'. It made me proud to be Welsh.
Llanelli is a town crying out for a documentary. Most of the population are on one form of benefit or other.The local council are totally corrupt. It is a town where effectively nothing happens. I noticed a story in the Llanelli Star over the weekend that reported a Telegraph Pole was taken down from a Pavement in Burry Port that was obstructing Pedestrians. Yes really. It is that kind of town. Now do you understand 'nonversation'?
It is working class, but people are real. Funny. Don't get me wrong, some are total c***s. I get alot of stick from Welsh boys from the way i look. They don't like outsiders here. But that is mostly from overweight shaved haired boyos in tracksuit bottoms. Sponsored by Sports Direct. I believe Martin Amis christened it. 'Dressed for the track built for the pub'. I don't think i have anything to worry about. I'm comfortable looking a nonce.
Then it was time to leave. The long drive back to London for an uber busy week. Charity Comedy Night on Thursday and i haven't written a jot and I'm worried about getting a decent crowd. Perhaps i should try and nab a mobility scooter as a raffle prize. Then again, maybe i should have one on mile 20 of the marathon. Could be handy when i hit the wall.
A beautiful weekend. Wales won the Grand Slam. Family united. Uncle Ken 'And those'. Massive Sunday Lunch and i managed 14 miles. The only thing missing was a 12p a minute sunbed which is a little like the Japanese Nuclear plant after the Tsunami. Still ,there's always next week.
Have a tidy week people. Please click the link to check out the video from today's visit. Brought to you in live technicolour from Prince Philip Hospital. Ward 1. Oh my God, Hospital Radio/TV. I've found my level now!
xx
Friday & Saturday 16th & 17th March
Mileage - 0 both days - Weekly Mileage 20.
Friday was a day of bugger all, Saturday spent travelling down to Wales for Mothers Day and to see Nan. I reached there at 1pm, went straight to Vodafone to get a dongle. Spent 15 minutes queuing behind a couple of Welsh women asking inane questions like - "which button do you press to switch it on". After a rather tense wait and in my mind machine gunning the entire queue and 12 year old staff (all 2 of them) i achieved the purchase of the dongle. Which subsequently didn't work. Why is life so f**** complicated!!!
Then it was quick nip into Asda to pick up a couple of things. Weaved my way through the mobility scooters, fake tans and leopard skin leggings. MC Asda informed everyone there was a special offer on Carling in aisle 48 and punnets of Strawberries were reduced to 48p. It was good to know.
Then it was to Brymoor Road to watch Wales win the Grand Slam whilst supping tea and eating boiled mints. First time I've watched a rugby match with my Mother, who twitched and jumped more than a kid with ADHD on amphetamine sulphate. Nervy.
Order was restored to LLanelli, when immediately after the game my Auntie Gwynie rang my Mum to have a 15 minute 'nonversation' about Doreen's bunions and Mrs Jenkins next door. The sound was turned down whilst the cup was being presented. FFS it's the Grand Slam mun, Who gives a f*** about Doreen's bunions. But, it was classic Llanelli Auntie 'nonversation'. I should be used to it by now, but right on final whistle? Come on.
Then after more Rugby, England v Ireland - my god it's like a sport orgy today. Rugby all day, football, Formula 1 (yawn) Then it was off to see me Nan, in hospital.
She looked frail, weak and tiny but her spirit was good. The ward is a pretty depressing place and she is focused on being let out and getting home for her final few weeks/months. Pretty inspiring stuff.
We went through my journey, what was eaten for lunch, Sunday lunch tomorrow, the lady in the bed opposite and how smart and tidy my new haircut is. The Rugby was discussed and then we went back to the weather, more talk on food. It's crucial in Wales to discuss and plan at least 2 meals ahead with Sunday lunch of course being the Main Attraction.
What made me smile was hearing about my Uncle Ken 'and those on it there' Probert. Not only does he now say 'and those on it there' in every sentence, he's taken to saying 'yes indeed, indeed yes' as well, for no apparent reason. The man could say an entire sentence without actually making any sense or saying anything. Very Llanelli.
Anyway, as you know they like to eat Sunday Lunch early in Wales. The earliest recorded at my Nan's was 11.30am, as my brother had a long drive home once. Lunch was on the table at 11.30am, only 2 hours after Egg and Bacon.
But Uncle Ken is going to surpass that tomorrow. He is off out with family for lunch at his favourite place, The Ashburnham Country Club, Llanelli. He has made the cardinal error of not booking. He wants to eat in the Conservatory area, as it's child friendly, so effectively it is first come first served. He, apparently, is getting there at 11am. Ready to go. Bring on the Roast. Exceptional commitment.
he will actually be getting ready for lunch in his Sunday best (Cardigan, shirt and tie, with freshly pressed Farah trousers and slip ons - tassel optional) at 10am. When most people in London are just stumbling into Starbucks considering a skinny Latte, my Uncle Ken is preparing for Sunday Lunch. So Llanelli. So funny.
Then when they rang the bell for the end of visiting. (not an electronic bell, but an actual bell like closing time - straight up no lie) it was back to Brymoor Road for a bit of TV, dinner and watching my Mum snore on the reclining armchair (she'll hate me for sharing that) whilst i looked in the fridge every 6 minutes. Hell raising Saturday it was not, but Mothers Day llanelli it was.
loved every minute.
Long run tomorrow, but if I'm honest I'm not feeling peak condition. I'm more worried about Sunday lunch then the run. We are booked into a pub where the portions are larger than the entire food mountain for Syria. It's gonna be big.
xx
Friday was a day of bugger all, Saturday spent travelling down to Wales for Mothers Day and to see Nan. I reached there at 1pm, went straight to Vodafone to get a dongle. Spent 15 minutes queuing behind a couple of Welsh women asking inane questions like - "which button do you press to switch it on". After a rather tense wait and in my mind machine gunning the entire queue and 12 year old staff (all 2 of them) i achieved the purchase of the dongle. Which subsequently didn't work. Why is life so f**** complicated!!!
Then it was quick nip into Asda to pick up a couple of things. Weaved my way through the mobility scooters, fake tans and leopard skin leggings. MC Asda informed everyone there was a special offer on Carling in aisle 48 and punnets of Strawberries were reduced to 48p. It was good to know.
Then it was to Brymoor Road to watch Wales win the Grand Slam whilst supping tea and eating boiled mints. First time I've watched a rugby match with my Mother, who twitched and jumped more than a kid with ADHD on amphetamine sulphate. Nervy.
Order was restored to LLanelli, when immediately after the game my Auntie Gwynie rang my Mum to have a 15 minute 'nonversation' about Doreen's bunions and Mrs Jenkins next door. The sound was turned down whilst the cup was being presented. FFS it's the Grand Slam mun, Who gives a f*** about Doreen's bunions. But, it was classic Llanelli Auntie 'nonversation'. I should be used to it by now, but right on final whistle? Come on.
Then after more Rugby, England v Ireland - my god it's like a sport orgy today. Rugby all day, football, Formula 1 (yawn) Then it was off to see me Nan, in hospital.
She looked frail, weak and tiny but her spirit was good. The ward is a pretty depressing place and she is focused on being let out and getting home for her final few weeks/months. Pretty inspiring stuff.
We went through my journey, what was eaten for lunch, Sunday lunch tomorrow, the lady in the bed opposite and how smart and tidy my new haircut is. The Rugby was discussed and then we went back to the weather, more talk on food. It's crucial in Wales to discuss and plan at least 2 meals ahead with Sunday lunch of course being the Main Attraction.
What made me smile was hearing about my Uncle Ken 'and those on it there' Probert. Not only does he now say 'and those on it there' in every sentence, he's taken to saying 'yes indeed, indeed yes' as well, for no apparent reason. The man could say an entire sentence without actually making any sense or saying anything. Very Llanelli.
Anyway, as you know they like to eat Sunday Lunch early in Wales. The earliest recorded at my Nan's was 11.30am, as my brother had a long drive home once. Lunch was on the table at 11.30am, only 2 hours after Egg and Bacon.
But Uncle Ken is going to surpass that tomorrow. He is off out with family for lunch at his favourite place, The Ashburnham Country Club, Llanelli. He has made the cardinal error of not booking. He wants to eat in the Conservatory area, as it's child friendly, so effectively it is first come first served. He, apparently, is getting there at 11am. Ready to go. Bring on the Roast. Exceptional commitment.
he will actually be getting ready for lunch in his Sunday best (Cardigan, shirt and tie, with freshly pressed Farah trousers and slip ons - tassel optional) at 10am. When most people in London are just stumbling into Starbucks considering a skinny Latte, my Uncle Ken is preparing for Sunday Lunch. So Llanelli. So funny.
Then when they rang the bell for the end of visiting. (not an electronic bell, but an actual bell like closing time - straight up no lie) it was back to Brymoor Road for a bit of TV, dinner and watching my Mum snore on the reclining armchair (she'll hate me for sharing that) whilst i looked in the fridge every 6 minutes. Hell raising Saturday it was not, but Mothers Day llanelli it was.
loved every minute.
Long run tomorrow, but if I'm honest I'm not feeling peak condition. I'm more worried about Sunday lunch then the run. We are booked into a pub where the portions are larger than the entire food mountain for Syria. It's gonna be big.
xx
Saturday, March 17, 2012
Day 74 Thursday 15th march
Mileage 7; time 56 mins; weekly mileage 20 miles.
Cool, another 7 miles under the belt. Not feeling at the races today. In fact if I was racing at Cheltenham I would be a 1000 to 1 shot. In fact I'd be shot. Simple. It's a good job I'm not at the races. Hopefully the only thing I hope that will be shot today is my load. Yuk. Sorry folks that was un called for.Grim
Not too much to report other than I spent most of the day avoiding things again. Procrastination is so natural to me. Jesus, I've caught up on all the backlog of Relocation Relocation Relocation and my laptop has taken such a pounding it's broken. I now know the full range of proce range on Flog It and Dickinsons Real Deal is ace. Boy do I need change. Quickly.
Run was a bit of a trundle and uninspired. One of those you just knock out. Get mileage under the belt and move on. Not sure if it's really going to help me achieve my time. It won't. I should really structure training towards it. This week hasn't really been good for time, fitness and focus. Looks like its all about the long one now. The only thing that will pull it back.
Anyway short and sweet today. Not a lot to report so I,m going to shut my gob now.
Big love
Xx
Cool, another 7 miles under the belt. Not feeling at the races today. In fact if I was racing at Cheltenham I would be a 1000 to 1 shot. In fact I'd be shot. Simple. It's a good job I'm not at the races. Hopefully the only thing I hope that will be shot today is my load. Yuk. Sorry folks that was un called for.Grim
Not too much to report other than I spent most of the day avoiding things again. Procrastination is so natural to me. Jesus, I've caught up on all the backlog of Relocation Relocation Relocation and my laptop has taken such a pounding it's broken. I now know the full range of proce range on Flog It and Dickinsons Real Deal is ace. Boy do I need change. Quickly.
Run was a bit of a trundle and uninspired. One of those you just knock out. Get mileage under the belt and move on. Not sure if it's really going to help me achieve my time. It won't. I should really structure training towards it. This week hasn't really been good for time, fitness and focus. Looks like its all about the long one now. The only thing that will pull it back.
Anyway short and sweet today. Not a lot to report so I,m going to shut my gob now.
Big love
Xx
Thursday, March 15, 2012
Day 73 - Weds 14th March
Mileage - 7; Time 56 minutes; Weekly Mileage 13
And so to the middle of the week. Energy Low. Mood Low. Bank Balance Low. Trousers Not. It's not a great day.
Bad diet, back on the diet coke and caffeine and Bad news from Wales about me Nan meant today was like wading through quicksand. Felt sad. Felt sorry. Felt pity. Most of it dominated for myself. Not a good space.
It was compounded at 3pm, when my 1st raft of business card orders came in from the troops at work. I thought to myself - 10 years ago i was a Commercial Manager of a Premier League Football Club, doing £100k deals, organising executive clubs, mixing with ex players and rich businessmen. When i first got sober in AA they said you will have a life beyond your wildest dreams (Only a greedy ungrateful alcoholic would demand something BEYOND their wildest dreams, like they are not good enough. classic)
So today here i sat, 10 years down the line, taking stationary orders from a 25 year old. It made me smile. Clearly My new mission in life is not to spread the profile and destruction of addiction on people and families and society. It's not to help others. It's not to train people to be fitter and healthier. It's not to run comedy nights. It;s not to be a responsible and helpful family member.
No, my new calling in life is to spread the importance of stationary to the world. Where would we be without it? How would we flip contact details to someone? Write a covering letter to? Send anything important? Christ - what on earth would we do? No flyer's, posters. Printers would go out of business. Millions of crucial letters would cease to be sent. Granted their would be no Junk Mail, but what of everything else?
People chopping down trees in forests would be out of a job. Families destroyed. People would be destitute in South America. OK, granted the world's trees would remain untouched and therefore create a better healthier world without global warming for the next 500 years, but fuck that, i need a compliment slip to go in my letter.
I need an A4 folder to slip some important brochures in that agencies charge fortunes designing and writing and printing that no-one fucking reads anyway. God, the designers - i forgot, they would be out of a job. It would literally be Stationary Armageddon. Destruction of life as we know it.
Wow, you see, i am going to ride this Stationary Manager train. No-one truly understands the importance of what I'm doing. I am single handed keeping the whole of south America in employment. Fuck it i may even order some of those branded Post it Notes now - maybe that will feed another family for a month.
Yes, my new role in life is a humanitarian stationary manager. A sort of Princess Diana of the paper world. Visiting poor 3rd world nations in Chinos and polo shirt, looking concerned at the local little poor people and visiting paper mills and factories pretending to be interested in their plight. I can see it all pan out.
Maybe I'll start a Charity and call it 'Incontinent Compliment Slips' - for people in stationary who have trouble pissing themselves. A sad and underestimated condition that affects 4% of the stationary world.
I started off 2012 wondering what my direction, my calling was. I have now found it. Thank God. The God of Envelopes. A Life Beyond My wildest Dreams. Those Bastards were right. It's not parties, women, orgies, wealth, success thats beyond my wildest dreams. It's stationary. Who would have predicted that one?
See, i felt better already after that. My lightness and sense of perspective came back. It is actually only a tiny part of my crucial role and no biggy. But it gives me Mirth. It helps to keep a sense of humour i think. I lost that this morning.
At least i wasn't as bad as the poor fucker who threw themselves in front of a train at The Oval on the Northern Line this morning. Dreadful place to be, and i feel for both him and his family in having to deal with it and come to terms with it. A Low place to be. They say Suicide is the ultimate selfish act. Very Harsh but true. Couldn't he have waited until after Rush Hour. Held me up for 2 hours.
(that was a crass and harsh joke, of course i feel genuine empathy and profound sadness for the mental position that person found themselves in, but as the financial crisis has worsened the number of Suicides on London Underground has increased 30%. Either that or the £10.40 Travelcard increases have really had an effect)
Later i went out for a 7 mile run around Richmond Park. A little bit of a trudge but got into my stride later and it ended up being a nice trundle. Did some 100m sprints too, sprint, run, sprint, run - just to mix up a bit but legs felt OK.
Evening was spent at a meeting which helped to lift the mood and put me back together again, and also after hearing from my Mum about a lovely plan for my Nan for the next few weeks/months. Sounds strange but in a way the bad news today has made things clearer and more dignified and almost brings a sense of peace.
I'm not too spiritual but i get a feeling that God is lining things up in the right way. When something feels right, then that's Gods will in my book. And of it's OK with the big fella or whoever Your God is (if you have one of course) then it's OK with me. I know my place.
As Terry from Bury once said to me when i said i don't like hearing about or knowing what God is, as i run away from orthodox religion. I was feared about and this former Pig Farmer said to me in a broad Bury accent - "The only thing you need to know about God, Nick. Is that you're not fucking it".
That'll do for me, lets keep it simple and not complicated. I'll leave that debate for other's to write ultimately pointless books about, hey Dr Richard.
Until tomorrow jog bloggers. We're all in it together. The Human Race.
Love
xx
And so to the middle of the week. Energy Low. Mood Low. Bank Balance Low. Trousers Not. It's not a great day.
Bad diet, back on the diet coke and caffeine and Bad news from Wales about me Nan meant today was like wading through quicksand. Felt sad. Felt sorry. Felt pity. Most of it dominated for myself. Not a good space.
It was compounded at 3pm, when my 1st raft of business card orders came in from the troops at work. I thought to myself - 10 years ago i was a Commercial Manager of a Premier League Football Club, doing £100k deals, organising executive clubs, mixing with ex players and rich businessmen. When i first got sober in AA they said you will have a life beyond your wildest dreams (Only a greedy ungrateful alcoholic would demand something BEYOND their wildest dreams, like they are not good enough. classic)
So today here i sat, 10 years down the line, taking stationary orders from a 25 year old. It made me smile. Clearly My new mission in life is not to spread the profile and destruction of addiction on people and families and society. It's not to help others. It's not to train people to be fitter and healthier. It's not to run comedy nights. It;s not to be a responsible and helpful family member.
No, my new calling in life is to spread the importance of stationary to the world. Where would we be without it? How would we flip contact details to someone? Write a covering letter to? Send anything important? Christ - what on earth would we do? No flyer's, posters. Printers would go out of business. Millions of crucial letters would cease to be sent. Granted their would be no Junk Mail, but what of everything else?
People chopping down trees in forests would be out of a job. Families destroyed. People would be destitute in South America. OK, granted the world's trees would remain untouched and therefore create a better healthier world without global warming for the next 500 years, but fuck that, i need a compliment slip to go in my letter.
I need an A4 folder to slip some important brochures in that agencies charge fortunes designing and writing and printing that no-one fucking reads anyway. God, the designers - i forgot, they would be out of a job. It would literally be Stationary Armageddon. Destruction of life as we know it.
Wow, you see, i am going to ride this Stationary Manager train. No-one truly understands the importance of what I'm doing. I am single handed keeping the whole of south America in employment. Fuck it i may even order some of those branded Post it Notes now - maybe that will feed another family for a month.
Yes, my new role in life is a humanitarian stationary manager. A sort of Princess Diana of the paper world. Visiting poor 3rd world nations in Chinos and polo shirt, looking concerned at the local little poor people and visiting paper mills and factories pretending to be interested in their plight. I can see it all pan out.
Maybe I'll start a Charity and call it 'Incontinent Compliment Slips' - for people in stationary who have trouble pissing themselves. A sad and underestimated condition that affects 4% of the stationary world.
I started off 2012 wondering what my direction, my calling was. I have now found it. Thank God. The God of Envelopes. A Life Beyond My wildest Dreams. Those Bastards were right. It's not parties, women, orgies, wealth, success thats beyond my wildest dreams. It's stationary. Who would have predicted that one?
See, i felt better already after that. My lightness and sense of perspective came back. It is actually only a tiny part of my crucial role and no biggy. But it gives me Mirth. It helps to keep a sense of humour i think. I lost that this morning.
At least i wasn't as bad as the poor fucker who threw themselves in front of a train at The Oval on the Northern Line this morning. Dreadful place to be, and i feel for both him and his family in having to deal with it and come to terms with it. A Low place to be. They say Suicide is the ultimate selfish act. Very Harsh but true. Couldn't he have waited until after Rush Hour. Held me up for 2 hours.
(that was a crass and harsh joke, of course i feel genuine empathy and profound sadness for the mental position that person found themselves in, but as the financial crisis has worsened the number of Suicides on London Underground has increased 30%. Either that or the £10.40 Travelcard increases have really had an effect)
Later i went out for a 7 mile run around Richmond Park. A little bit of a trudge but got into my stride later and it ended up being a nice trundle. Did some 100m sprints too, sprint, run, sprint, run - just to mix up a bit but legs felt OK.
Evening was spent at a meeting which helped to lift the mood and put me back together again, and also after hearing from my Mum about a lovely plan for my Nan for the next few weeks/months. Sounds strange but in a way the bad news today has made things clearer and more dignified and almost brings a sense of peace.
I'm not too spiritual but i get a feeling that God is lining things up in the right way. When something feels right, then that's Gods will in my book. And of it's OK with the big fella or whoever Your God is (if you have one of course) then it's OK with me. I know my place.
As Terry from Bury once said to me when i said i don't like hearing about or knowing what God is, as i run away from orthodox religion. I was feared about and this former Pig Farmer said to me in a broad Bury accent - "The only thing you need to know about God, Nick. Is that you're not fucking it".
That'll do for me, lets keep it simple and not complicated. I'll leave that debate for other's to write ultimately pointless books about, hey Dr Richard.
Until tomorrow jog bloggers. We're all in it together. The Human Race.
Love
xx
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
Day 72 - Tuesday 13th March
No mileage - Rest Day - weekly mileage 6
I'm not going to lie, today wasn't very nice. Bad news about my Nan. Although as yet confirmed but the poor wee matriarch is very poorly. Made me feel sad for my Mother too. Tough times for all.
Today was all about work and then eat shit, do f*** all at night. So not alot to talk about in terms of training. Other than i shouldn't have eaten so much crap and done f*** all. Just wanted to hide away at night and isolate. A strange way to be, but one i often gravitate towards when under a little pain or stress or emotion. I do believe the past month caught up with me and i just hid away.
I shouldn't do that as it's the complete opposite to my Nan and Mother. Both strong, spirited and inner determined Welsh women with a real 'dust yourself off' and 'get on with it' attitude. I get there in the end but i go through the whole self pity, hide away, avoid thing before coming around to the general idea that gets you absolutely nowhere. Still at least i recognise this and don't do the usual man thing of bullshit that everything is OK and stiff upper lip and all that bollocks.
Sometimes things are not OK. Sometimes I'm not OK. Sometimes i love to wallow in my own pity and really pile it on. Not healthy. I don't even know why I'm doing it sometimes. I just do. Trick is not to get lost in it for too long. Pull back just in time so to speak.
Anyway, I'm over that now. Fuck it. What a whinging bag of soft as shite i am. I may as well go and knit a jumper and watch a Meg Ryan film. Oh hang on a second, last time i watched one with her in I cried. Not good for Manly image. Ahem. Move On. Think Shelving, DIY and Power drills.
Back to my Nan. She is 96. She has been the main constant in all our lives. Razor sharp and full of spirit and life. She has lived in the same house for 73 years. When all of the madness and moves and domestic carnage of the childhood was played out, going to hers was like a throwback. Even down to keeping copies of Roy of The Rovers from childhood. Good job i hid the 'readers Wives' back in the day.
She lost her husband years ago, she never moaned. She never showed self pity. She never complained. Real old school get on with it and tomorrow is good day spirit. Shame i seem to have picked up more DNA from my fathers side. Manic Depressive, cross dressing, alcoholic lunatics.
My Nan evokes happy times. Warmth of Llanelli. Brymoor Road, Home made Rock cakes. House Coat and Pinny. Fresh bread delivered by the Baker. Lowering her voice when talking about 'Mrs Jenkins next door'. A Bag of boiled mints permanently on hand. Emmerdale Farm, Constant News updates, small kit kats, a nice cup of tea, Nivea cream at night and sweeping the doorstep every day to keep the house immaculate.
Living on a budget, always slipping you £20 here and there and always an old fashioned birthday card with a poem inside. Sunday Roasts, Ham and Parsley Sauce and a nice tray of Chops from Marks and Spencer.
There is no finer thing in the world than hearing my nan, in her heavy Welsh accent say the word 'Chops' and talking so enthusiastically about how much pleasure she gets from a nice lamb or pork Chop (Know where the name of my Comedy Club comes from now?)
In short i love her. Of course i do, she's my nan. My mothers mother. But more than that she is lovely. Everyone marvels at her. Sher has devoted her life to the thought and care of others and without a hint of self pity and often wonder. Why don't i show a bit more of that inner grit.
So today. Nan, this is for you. For all you have done. For being you. That is all that you ever needed to be. She'll never read this if course. i am going down this weekend so it maybe tricky to explain to her what a 'blog' is. Let alone Facebook or Twitter,
But i am determined to get her viewing my Mum's Ipad (photo opportunity) That is a PR stunt that Apple would literally wank themselves silly for. A 96 year old on an Ipad. I love it
xx
I'm not going to lie, today wasn't very nice. Bad news about my Nan. Although as yet confirmed but the poor wee matriarch is very poorly. Made me feel sad for my Mother too. Tough times for all.
Today was all about work and then eat shit, do f*** all at night. So not alot to talk about in terms of training. Other than i shouldn't have eaten so much crap and done f*** all. Just wanted to hide away at night and isolate. A strange way to be, but one i often gravitate towards when under a little pain or stress or emotion. I do believe the past month caught up with me and i just hid away.
I shouldn't do that as it's the complete opposite to my Nan and Mother. Both strong, spirited and inner determined Welsh women with a real 'dust yourself off' and 'get on with it' attitude. I get there in the end but i go through the whole self pity, hide away, avoid thing before coming around to the general idea that gets you absolutely nowhere. Still at least i recognise this and don't do the usual man thing of bullshit that everything is OK and stiff upper lip and all that bollocks.
Sometimes things are not OK. Sometimes I'm not OK. Sometimes i love to wallow in my own pity and really pile it on. Not healthy. I don't even know why I'm doing it sometimes. I just do. Trick is not to get lost in it for too long. Pull back just in time so to speak.
Anyway, I'm over that now. Fuck it. What a whinging bag of soft as shite i am. I may as well go and knit a jumper and watch a Meg Ryan film. Oh hang on a second, last time i watched one with her in I cried. Not good for Manly image. Ahem. Move On. Think Shelving, DIY and Power drills.
Back to my Nan. She is 96. She has been the main constant in all our lives. Razor sharp and full of spirit and life. She has lived in the same house for 73 years. When all of the madness and moves and domestic carnage of the childhood was played out, going to hers was like a throwback. Even down to keeping copies of Roy of The Rovers from childhood. Good job i hid the 'readers Wives' back in the day.
She lost her husband years ago, she never moaned. She never showed self pity. She never complained. Real old school get on with it and tomorrow is good day spirit. Shame i seem to have picked up more DNA from my fathers side. Manic Depressive, cross dressing, alcoholic lunatics.
My Nan evokes happy times. Warmth of Llanelli. Brymoor Road, Home made Rock cakes. House Coat and Pinny. Fresh bread delivered by the Baker. Lowering her voice when talking about 'Mrs Jenkins next door'. A Bag of boiled mints permanently on hand. Emmerdale Farm, Constant News updates, small kit kats, a nice cup of tea, Nivea cream at night and sweeping the doorstep every day to keep the house immaculate.
Living on a budget, always slipping you £20 here and there and always an old fashioned birthday card with a poem inside. Sunday Roasts, Ham and Parsley Sauce and a nice tray of Chops from Marks and Spencer.
There is no finer thing in the world than hearing my nan, in her heavy Welsh accent say the word 'Chops' and talking so enthusiastically about how much pleasure she gets from a nice lamb or pork Chop (Know where the name of my Comedy Club comes from now?)
In short i love her. Of course i do, she's my nan. My mothers mother. But more than that she is lovely. Everyone marvels at her. Sher has devoted her life to the thought and care of others and without a hint of self pity and often wonder. Why don't i show a bit more of that inner grit.
So today. Nan, this is for you. For all you have done. For being you. That is all that you ever needed to be. She'll never read this if course. i am going down this weekend so it maybe tricky to explain to her what a 'blog' is. Let alone Facebook or Twitter,
But i am determined to get her viewing my Mum's Ipad (photo opportunity) That is a PR stunt that Apple would literally wank themselves silly for. A 96 year old on an Ipad. I love it
xx
Monday, March 12, 2012
Day 71 - Monday 12th March
Mileage 6; time - 46 mins - weekly mileage 6
The week began with an intervention to a treatment centre for my poor friend. She was in a really bad way and rather than holding out for 2 weeks for a detox, the decision was made whilst i was away in Wales and off she went today for 3 weeks.
It;s the only way as i doubt if she would have made the next 2 weeks. One of the worst cases of addiction I've seen, Transforming a warm, bouncy healthy human into a shell of a person, underweight, shaking, fitting, weeping, shouting, stumbling, falling, a shambolic mess and a danger to themselves and others. The true nature of the illness has been played out in full technicolour non glory over the past 3 weeks and i can only respect it as a disease even more than previously.
I'm not the biggest fan of treatment centres as i fear that free recovery and helping people out of spirit is affected by money. Having said that, they do help people and effectively detox them from dying, so i cannot really knock them. It;s just the old celebrity check in to 'rehab' when things get a little tight seems so fuking lame and fashionable. Bit a treatement centre in Lambeth or Romford is certainly not in that category and how can you critisize people for saving lives? End of debate!
Makes my addiction to diet coke, cigarettes, adult websites, women, DVD boxsets, chewing gum, caffeine and endurance sports look small fry really. Still, she's in a safe place and that's all that matters.
On a personal front i didn't go into office, so intended to use the day to good use. Learn how to send digital newsletters on Mailchimp, learn how to use Linked IN, promote comedy, and do various other odd jobs. When i say intended that being the word - i didn't actually do any of that, but i intended too!
I instead used the time extremely unwisely by using the Internet for purposes of which 4 hours should not be spent. A total waste of time and avoidance. Man am i world class at that. I achieved Olympic qualifying standards today.
The best thing i did other than avoiding diet coke, was to go out for a 6 mile run in the sun by The Thames. My legs were a little stiff, but on the whole it wasn't a bad run. I was pretty pleased. It's always tempting after a long run to do bugger all for.....3, maybe 4...months, but i like to get a run under my belt early doors in the week, so at least I've got 6 on the board for this week. plus it trains my body to keep pushing itself. That was pretty much the only thing positive i did all day.
I pulled it round at night, after a rocking good meeting, full of reality and humanity and insanity, i secured a sponsor for the meat raffle, Gary the Buddhist who's a butcher on Northcote Road, a referral for a good plumber, I didn't drink diet coke and wrote the blogs. I've got to pleased with that, feels like a lat minute equaliser, but i do need to learn lessons and get on with what needs doing. avoiding and putting things off ultimately leads to depression and restlessness. So best if tomorrow i crack on, as opposed to cracking off.
Day 71 over. I honestly cannot believe I've kept it up. We are getting to the 'business end' now. Less than 6 weeks left, so the next 3 weeks is time for hardcore and focused training and no pissing about.
Eyes down for a full house campers - Game on
xx
The week began with an intervention to a treatment centre for my poor friend. She was in a really bad way and rather than holding out for 2 weeks for a detox, the decision was made whilst i was away in Wales and off she went today for 3 weeks.
It;s the only way as i doubt if she would have made the next 2 weeks. One of the worst cases of addiction I've seen, Transforming a warm, bouncy healthy human into a shell of a person, underweight, shaking, fitting, weeping, shouting, stumbling, falling, a shambolic mess and a danger to themselves and others. The true nature of the illness has been played out in full technicolour non glory over the past 3 weeks and i can only respect it as a disease even more than previously.
I'm not the biggest fan of treatment centres as i fear that free recovery and helping people out of spirit is affected by money. Having said that, they do help people and effectively detox them from dying, so i cannot really knock them. It;s just the old celebrity check in to 'rehab' when things get a little tight seems so fuking lame and fashionable. Bit a treatement centre in Lambeth or Romford is certainly not in that category and how can you critisize people for saving lives? End of debate!
Makes my addiction to diet coke, cigarettes, adult websites, women, DVD boxsets, chewing gum, caffeine and endurance sports look small fry really. Still, she's in a safe place and that's all that matters.
On a personal front i didn't go into office, so intended to use the day to good use. Learn how to send digital newsletters on Mailchimp, learn how to use Linked IN, promote comedy, and do various other odd jobs. When i say intended that being the word - i didn't actually do any of that, but i intended too!
I instead used the time extremely unwisely by using the Internet for purposes of which 4 hours should not be spent. A total waste of time and avoidance. Man am i world class at that. I achieved Olympic qualifying standards today.
The best thing i did other than avoiding diet coke, was to go out for a 6 mile run in the sun by The Thames. My legs were a little stiff, but on the whole it wasn't a bad run. I was pretty pleased. It's always tempting after a long run to do bugger all for.....3, maybe 4...months, but i like to get a run under my belt early doors in the week, so at least I've got 6 on the board for this week. plus it trains my body to keep pushing itself. That was pretty much the only thing positive i did all day.
I pulled it round at night, after a rocking good meeting, full of reality and humanity and insanity, i secured a sponsor for the meat raffle, Gary the Buddhist who's a butcher on Northcote Road, a referral for a good plumber, I didn't drink diet coke and wrote the blogs. I've got to pleased with that, feels like a lat minute equaliser, but i do need to learn lessons and get on with what needs doing. avoiding and putting things off ultimately leads to depression and restlessness. So best if tomorrow i crack on, as opposed to cracking off.
Day 71 over. I honestly cannot believe I've kept it up. We are getting to the 'business end' now. Less than 6 weeks left, so the next 3 weeks is time for hardcore and focused training and no pissing about.
Eyes down for a full house campers - Game on
xx
Day 70 - Sunday 11th March - Llanelli Long un
18 miles, 2 hours 29 mins, weekly mileage 42 miles
YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!
No injuries, no touching cloth, no worries. The best run in ages. All along the millenium coastal path from Llanelli Beach to Cefn Sidn Beach in Pembrey Costal Park. An absolute dream
How can you not be in your element when confronted with stunning scenery like that at 9am on a Sunday morning? It's a long cycle path that goes on for miles taking in some of the most stunning coastline in the UK. The Gower Penisular. And i tore it up, settled into a rythmn, didn't go too quick, though didn't dawdle and around mile 11-14 i really got into my straps. Suffered a little on mile 15-17 but all in all it was a tip top and tidy run. The Ironman is back!
Passed several runners and cyclists, we acknowledged each other with a very welsh 'aright mun' - i seem to adopt a welsh accent when running. And i only passed 1 mobility scooter, though bizzarely the weksh old boy had a welsh flag on the front and a cap that had Espagna written on it.
The best bit was climbing over some dunes at mile 9 to get onto the stunning Cefn Sedin beach just when the sun started shining. I almost got a semi it was that powerful. In that moment was the reason for running. For training. Quiet, peaceful yet awe inspiring. The power of nature. I really enjoyed a great donkey piss in that setting.
Then it was back, i did intend to do 20 miles, but energy was low as i forgot my wine gums and i stopped when i felt good. Thats for next week.
Then it was out for the Welsh sunday lunch at the very posh Golf club, no riff raff carvery there. Though i'm pleased they upheld the very welsh sunday tradition of enormous portions. I was also very taken by the 3 generations of ladies on the table next to me. Grandmother, Mother and daughter, all dressed the same in huge high heels and heavy make up. very funny. (thats where i get it from!)
Then it was off to Prince Phillip Hospital (I didn't see him) to visit my poor Nan. She looked very frail and tiny, and a bit upsetting but perked up when woken and i think having the whole family there really made her feel better. She looked back to her old self after a while and her spirit and mind is razor sharp. Giving us all the gossip from the ward and slipping in a bot of old fashioned racism for good measure - 'The black girl in the end bed is keeping an eye on me'
Whilst it was upsetting, i was more upset by some of the old girls in the beds by her, couldn't speak, no visitors, it was really heartbreaking. At least my Nan had several generations around her - i suppose thats what comes from living 96 years and being so lovely and caring to people. She is very inspiring, i told her we'll let her off cooking mothers day lunch next week.
Then it was a quick nip into Asda to check the lottery numbers. Took ages in the queue behind 3 mobility scooters and i counted 3 ultra harsh old girls in leopard print leggins. A staple look for Llanelli. MC Asda was on the microphone peddling cheap meat and cut price cucumbers like a cross between Dave Lee Travis and a crack dealer.
I purchased some Welsh cakes and did just enough to forget my cash card in theose fucking self serve tills, back to Brymoor Road for a quick cup of tea and then back off to London.
I have to say i stiffened up in the car over the 4 hour drive. I looked like i should be wheeled around the OAP ward in Prince Phillip Hospital. And then back to London. My mum stopped waving me off as i hit the seven bridge, and the LLanelli weekend was over - until next weekend at least.
I love the place. I need to do 'The only way is LLanelli', as it's so funny. Working class benefit town surrounded by stunning coastline. Old men in cardigans and shirt and ties on a sunday. Old men with Donald Trump birdsnest teddy boy hair. Old girls looking like they eat Rothmans let alone smoke them. Dolled up grannies on mobility scooters and young Polish immigrants drinking themselves to Death. An odd mix.
I'm so pleased i went, i ran 18, i saw beautiful surroundings and had time with my Nan and family. It was all in all a super Sunday.
Saturday, March 10, 2012
Day 69 - Saturday 10th March
Mileage 7 - Time 1 hour 2 minutes. Weekly Mileage - 24 miles
My god, day 69. Surely that's deserving of a celebration? A 69 to celebrate day 69. MMM, well wishful thinking as i am sat here, in 14 Brymoor Road, Llanelli, South Wales. My Nan's house. My mother is upstairs, humming (that's noise wise not smell), my brother is in the kitchen eating loudly and my Nan is in hospital. I have about as much chance of a 69 as Stephen Hawkins. Though it would be fun to hear him try.
Today I've come down to the place of my birth. my spiritual home, Llanelli to visit my Nan. I didn't get here until 6ish, as i spent the morning at a meeting and then running 7 miles along the Thames. I have to say, for the 1st 30 minutes i felt like shit on a stick. Awful. The run was just a plod. Tired, lethargic, full. I wasn't at my best. Though it was a beautiful day and the river path to Putney was choc a bloc full of runners, walkers, rowers and posers (i was the former) - However when i turned around and came back felt much better and powered home. Pleased i didn't go long today, not sure i could have. But was pleased to churn out 7 miles, sets me up to attempt 20 miles in Wales tomorrow.
Finally it was down to Wales at lunchtime. I had to stop at Reading services though for a kip, as my eyes started to go, and i was falling asleep. It reminded me of when i used to drink drive. Keeping one eye open to try and see straight. Tricky. Finally after a 50 minute kip i tread my merry path to My spiritual home.
I stopped at Cardiff Gate Services. It made me think, if i wanted to end my life. I'd definately do it at The Ibis Motel in the lay by at Cardiff Gate Services. A totally soulless and horrid empty place. Sod Beachy Head, this place would be the perfect place to end it. I didn't and pressed on.
Once i got to Llanelli, my 1st port of call was to Asda to get my lottery ticket. Llanelli has more winners than most in the UK, as people are poor and hate their life, so loads of them buy lottery tickets to escape. My gut feeling they would just buy a larger house to stone clad.
I love Asda in Llanelli. As soon as i walked in, the MC was announcing on the speakers in a broad welsh accent that cucumbers were 12p, sandwiches 10p and eggs reduced from 99pm to 45p. The aisles were packed with ultra harsh looking scary women, overweight, carrying kids and doughnuts in leopard print leggings. It was good to be home.
Then to 14 Brymoor Road, immaculate. And then to see my nan. In hospital. Bit of a shock as she is tiny and very poorly. Can't eat properly and struggling a little. Mind you so would i if i couldn't eat for 10 days. She still has a spirit for humanity though and her inner strength is still there. I love her very much, but even i had to look away when she took her false teeth out. I admit I'm slightly squeamish that way.
We shall go back tomorrow with a mini Sunday roast to cheer her up.
Spent the evening grazing and preparing myself mentally for 'the long one' tomorrow. It will be rather nice as the coastline is stunning (Gower Peninsular) and it is such a gorgeous open expanse, Space and place to breathe and think. I'm looking forward to.
The only thing I'm worried about is the amount of mobility scooters in the way. When you have been running for 3 hours you're legs are hard to move and weave. It may turn into a stand off between me and the mobility scooter. But there's only going to be one winner - and it's them. The scary one on the scooter in leopard print leggings. Even i, in all my years of depravity, wouldn't stoop so low.......would i? ..............Now where is that Welsh dictionary for "I like the colour of your mobility scooter, can i push you to the cafe for a coffee?"
Until tomorrow welshers. Big day tomorrow. No not the run, Sunday lunch. It's an institution down here. I'm nervous already. Seeing as my Nan's in hospital we won't be eating it at 11am, lunchtime for my Ma and I. I will hopefully will have earned it after knocking out a 20 miler. Bring it on!!
xx
My god, day 69. Surely that's deserving of a celebration? A 69 to celebrate day 69. MMM, well wishful thinking as i am sat here, in 14 Brymoor Road, Llanelli, South Wales. My Nan's house. My mother is upstairs, humming (that's noise wise not smell), my brother is in the kitchen eating loudly and my Nan is in hospital. I have about as much chance of a 69 as Stephen Hawkins. Though it would be fun to hear him try.
Today I've come down to the place of my birth. my spiritual home, Llanelli to visit my Nan. I didn't get here until 6ish, as i spent the morning at a meeting and then running 7 miles along the Thames. I have to say, for the 1st 30 minutes i felt like shit on a stick. Awful. The run was just a plod. Tired, lethargic, full. I wasn't at my best. Though it was a beautiful day and the river path to Putney was choc a bloc full of runners, walkers, rowers and posers (i was the former) - However when i turned around and came back felt much better and powered home. Pleased i didn't go long today, not sure i could have. But was pleased to churn out 7 miles, sets me up to attempt 20 miles in Wales tomorrow.
Finally it was down to Wales at lunchtime. I had to stop at Reading services though for a kip, as my eyes started to go, and i was falling asleep. It reminded me of when i used to drink drive. Keeping one eye open to try and see straight. Tricky. Finally after a 50 minute kip i tread my merry path to My spiritual home.
I stopped at Cardiff Gate Services. It made me think, if i wanted to end my life. I'd definately do it at The Ibis Motel in the lay by at Cardiff Gate Services. A totally soulless and horrid empty place. Sod Beachy Head, this place would be the perfect place to end it. I didn't and pressed on.
Once i got to Llanelli, my 1st port of call was to Asda to get my lottery ticket. Llanelli has more winners than most in the UK, as people are poor and hate their life, so loads of them buy lottery tickets to escape. My gut feeling they would just buy a larger house to stone clad.
I love Asda in Llanelli. As soon as i walked in, the MC was announcing on the speakers in a broad welsh accent that cucumbers were 12p, sandwiches 10p and eggs reduced from 99pm to 45p. The aisles were packed with ultra harsh looking scary women, overweight, carrying kids and doughnuts in leopard print leggings. It was good to be home.
Then to 14 Brymoor Road, immaculate. And then to see my nan. In hospital. Bit of a shock as she is tiny and very poorly. Can't eat properly and struggling a little. Mind you so would i if i couldn't eat for 10 days. She still has a spirit for humanity though and her inner strength is still there. I love her very much, but even i had to look away when she took her false teeth out. I admit I'm slightly squeamish that way.
We shall go back tomorrow with a mini Sunday roast to cheer her up.
Spent the evening grazing and preparing myself mentally for 'the long one' tomorrow. It will be rather nice as the coastline is stunning (Gower Peninsular) and it is such a gorgeous open expanse, Space and place to breathe and think. I'm looking forward to.
The only thing I'm worried about is the amount of mobility scooters in the way. When you have been running for 3 hours you're legs are hard to move and weave. It may turn into a stand off between me and the mobility scooter. But there's only going to be one winner - and it's them. The scary one on the scooter in leopard print leggings. Even i, in all my years of depravity, wouldn't stoop so low.......would i? ..............Now where is that Welsh dictionary for "I like the colour of your mobility scooter, can i push you to the cafe for a coffee?"
Until tomorrow welshers. Big day tomorrow. No not the run, Sunday lunch. It's an institution down here. I'm nervous already. Seeing as my Nan's in hospital we won't be eating it at 11am, lunchtime for my Ma and I. I will hopefully will have earned it after knocking out a 20 miler. Bring it on!!
xx
Friday, March 9, 2012
Day 68 - Friday 9th March
The Weekend!
Friday night for me used to be about going out and getting c**ted. Having a blast. Letting rip. Letting out the weeks frustrations and problems into a huge bender. Usually lasting until the early hours of Monday morning.
It was a relief, A pressure release. Rather like a really good poo. You know when you've been touching cloth for most of the day. Finally the relief. That was what a Massive Friday drinking session would be like for me. To escape from the grind. Have fun. Get on the lash. Preferably on Friday lunchtime.
Trouble is, i used to end up either punched out, blacked out or kicked out. Something usually happened, hence the need in the end to stop drinking. It could have got allot worse. I was lucky i suppose, as i was about to tilt over the edge into chronic daily. The life was starting to spin out of control. I stopped in time as they say. Took me a year really. Off pain, anger and resentment. But finally i stopped and don't really crave it or need it anymore.
But what of the frustrations? I still have those. As everyone does. It's called life. But i still have my head, my thinking, my attitude. My 'alcoholic' maladjusted view and reactions to life. I still get the build up. The head and world feels heavy. But what do i do to let out the frustrations now that i don't drink?
Well in the past 10 years of sobriety I've used pretty much everything there is to divert and let out frustrations? To get away from real life. In some horrid 'Recovery' language, they call it 'fixing'. Which basically means - instead of feeling your feelings, alcoholics run away from them, cannot stand them so use something to change the way you feel. Ie 'Fixing'.
I understand the concept, but not sure I'm comfortable with the term. However in 10 years i have used, pursued or even obsessed on the following things to make me feel better. In no particular order by the way;
Snooker. Spend hours lost in the game and dingy dark hall smoking and playing. Lovely
Porn - spend hours lost in the porn in a dark room smoking. lovely. Never enough
Women - god i could write a whole book there. Let's just say never enough, More of everything please.35 texts a day from them telling me I'm wonderful is nice, but about 65 too few.
Food - love a binge up on utter shit
DVD box sets - The best invention after penicillin - hours, days spent saying 'just one more episode only to find you've watched 3 series back to back'
Clothes shopping - Oh my god if i don't buy that item my life will be utterly shit, however if i get it everything in the world will be complete. Plus who doesn't get a buzz from getting a great bargain?
Ironman/running - hour upon hour of putting yourself through pain and torture - mmm, why do i love that but i do. Plus of course it makes my body look awesome.
Bikram Yoga- spending 90 minutes in a hot room in speedos surrounded by women wearing very little - whats not to like?
Holidays - Not as bad now but every 6 weeks get the urge to jet off somewhere new.
sex - Hours upon hours in the pursuit of. One of the real bonuses of sobriety and addiction is that i have become world class at it. Makes me sound a egotistical twat, but true
Falling in Love/Lust - Is there any better way of making you feel better?
These are just some of the areas i have used to get rid of frustrations and thoughts of life. But tonight? after a heavy week and with the emotions running high. I was tired. Demotivated, felt sorry for myself. Didn't want to run. Reverted back to lots of tea/diet coke/smoking routine, so making myself feel physically poor again.
I went to a meeting. Not just any old meeting, but my old home group in Richmond meeting of AA. Now i do allot of meetings. I share allot. Why? Because it helps me with the release of pressure, helps me grass my head up, makes me see that my head is out to get me, gives me perspective of life (people with severe illness or problems but dealing and accepting them with grace and peace and dignity and courage)
It just helps to balance me, stops the collision course with me and the world and makes all well again in me and life. It's not about the drinking so much now, But the reason i have to keep going/want to keep going. Is that without it, the pressure, the thoughts, the head would become so full and frustrated i would have to drink again. And i can't stop when i start. So really, it';s simple. It's a direct replacement for alcohol - and it's great.
So that's today really. No running or training. If I'm honest i couldn't be arsed even if i had the opportunity. Dealing with chronic alcoholic for 3 weeks has taken its toll. My diet and energy are bad and it has a knock onto my training. My responsibility to change it around though.
Again. no change on me Nan. They haven't tested her yet as to why there is a blockage and haven't really fed her. Its only the pushing from me Mammy that is making them treat her. Off to Wales tomorrow to visit her, as they feel there is not long left.
My job, go visit. Be good grandson and son and be there to support and listen. Oh, and run allot of miles along Llanelli beach,. Gower Peninsular and have a really cheap sunbed as everyone in South Wales is the colour of Furniture Polish. There we are then. Lovely, and those then on it
xx
Friday night for me used to be about going out and getting c**ted. Having a blast. Letting rip. Letting out the weeks frustrations and problems into a huge bender. Usually lasting until the early hours of Monday morning.
It was a relief, A pressure release. Rather like a really good poo. You know when you've been touching cloth for most of the day. Finally the relief. That was what a Massive Friday drinking session would be like for me. To escape from the grind. Have fun. Get on the lash. Preferably on Friday lunchtime.
Trouble is, i used to end up either punched out, blacked out or kicked out. Something usually happened, hence the need in the end to stop drinking. It could have got allot worse. I was lucky i suppose, as i was about to tilt over the edge into chronic daily. The life was starting to spin out of control. I stopped in time as they say. Took me a year really. Off pain, anger and resentment. But finally i stopped and don't really crave it or need it anymore.
But what of the frustrations? I still have those. As everyone does. It's called life. But i still have my head, my thinking, my attitude. My 'alcoholic' maladjusted view and reactions to life. I still get the build up. The head and world feels heavy. But what do i do to let out the frustrations now that i don't drink?
Well in the past 10 years of sobriety I've used pretty much everything there is to divert and let out frustrations? To get away from real life. In some horrid 'Recovery' language, they call it 'fixing'. Which basically means - instead of feeling your feelings, alcoholics run away from them, cannot stand them so use something to change the way you feel. Ie 'Fixing'.
I understand the concept, but not sure I'm comfortable with the term. However in 10 years i have used, pursued or even obsessed on the following things to make me feel better. In no particular order by the way;
Snooker. Spend hours lost in the game and dingy dark hall smoking and playing. Lovely
Porn - spend hours lost in the porn in a dark room smoking. lovely. Never enough
Women - god i could write a whole book there. Let's just say never enough, More of everything please.35 texts a day from them telling me I'm wonderful is nice, but about 65 too few.
Food - love a binge up on utter shit
DVD box sets - The best invention after penicillin - hours, days spent saying 'just one more episode only to find you've watched 3 series back to back'
Clothes shopping - Oh my god if i don't buy that item my life will be utterly shit, however if i get it everything in the world will be complete. Plus who doesn't get a buzz from getting a great bargain?
Ironman/running - hour upon hour of putting yourself through pain and torture - mmm, why do i love that but i do. Plus of course it makes my body look awesome.
Bikram Yoga- spending 90 minutes in a hot room in speedos surrounded by women wearing very little - whats not to like?
Holidays - Not as bad now but every 6 weeks get the urge to jet off somewhere new.
sex - Hours upon hours in the pursuit of. One of the real bonuses of sobriety and addiction is that i have become world class at it. Makes me sound a egotistical twat, but true
Falling in Love/Lust - Is there any better way of making you feel better?
These are just some of the areas i have used to get rid of frustrations and thoughts of life. But tonight? after a heavy week and with the emotions running high. I was tired. Demotivated, felt sorry for myself. Didn't want to run. Reverted back to lots of tea/diet coke/smoking routine, so making myself feel physically poor again.
I went to a meeting. Not just any old meeting, but my old home group in Richmond meeting of AA. Now i do allot of meetings. I share allot. Why? Because it helps me with the release of pressure, helps me grass my head up, makes me see that my head is out to get me, gives me perspective of life (people with severe illness or problems but dealing and accepting them with grace and peace and dignity and courage)
It just helps to balance me, stops the collision course with me and the world and makes all well again in me and life. It's not about the drinking so much now, But the reason i have to keep going/want to keep going. Is that without it, the pressure, the thoughts, the head would become so full and frustrated i would have to drink again. And i can't stop when i start. So really, it';s simple. It's a direct replacement for alcohol - and it's great.
So that's today really. No running or training. If I'm honest i couldn't be arsed even if i had the opportunity. Dealing with chronic alcoholic for 3 weeks has taken its toll. My diet and energy are bad and it has a knock onto my training. My responsibility to change it around though.
Again. no change on me Nan. They haven't tested her yet as to why there is a blockage and haven't really fed her. Its only the pushing from me Mammy that is making them treat her. Off to Wales tomorrow to visit her, as they feel there is not long left.
My job, go visit. Be good grandson and son and be there to support and listen. Oh, and run allot of miles along Llanelli beach,. Gower Peninsular and have a really cheap sunbed as everyone in South Wales is the colour of Furniture Polish. There we are then. Lovely, and those then on it
xx
Day 67 - Thursday 8th March
Mileage 4 - Brutal Hill Intervals; Weekly Mileage 17miles.
Evening (or morning) fellow jog bloggers. I'm writing yesterdays blog today at nearly midnight Friday, which makes it tomorrow. That will mean by the time i write tomorrows blog (ie today, Friday) It will actually be tomorrow. Confused? I am.
Christ, i haven't been this confused since i mixed LSD and MDMA years ago. That really was a cluster fuck. Try doing a stock take on that shit, it's what i used to do every Sunday night after a weekend of caning it. Turn up at the all night garage for my night shift sparkling off my box, only to have to count the entire stock on 'handover'. I knew i was in trouble when the count got to 3 Biscuit and Raisin Yorkie bars before they turned into Dragons and danced merrily with the Double Deckers.
I couldn't really share that one with Alan Dixon, who i was 'relieving'. I hated that term when it came to taking over from someone on a shift. According to the manager i had to 'relieve' Alan every night at 7pm. He was a 68 year old Racist with a wooden leg, The thought of 'relieving him' & giving a hand job let alone seeing him shoot his racist little load on my palm was disgusting and Certainly not for £3.85 per hour.Minimum wage. The manager was paid more than me, why didn't he do it?
Anyway that was years ago. I digress.
Today's headline news - Alcoholic friend still drinking, Painful to see the disintegration and sad nature of the illness at work. I feel a mix of so many emotions, mostly sad and angry - a weird disabling mix, as ultimately it is like watching a very slow car crash.
Me nan, no change. Still not eating and i am off to see her on Saturday. Hard to believe a 96 year old hasn't eaten hardly anything for 10 days and still fighting like mad. Remarkable. I won;t share with her i've got a slight pain in my fit this weekend then.
Training wise, foot felt a bit iffy so headed to gym. Did 1 mile easy on warm up, then x5 brutal 2 minute hills up to number 11 incline. Brutal but good sesh. Wrapped up after 35 mins and 4 miles sufficiently buggered, gulping air and regretting i have smoked so much as the lungs felt hotter than Anthony Worral Thompson's shopping basket.
That's it really. Today won;t go down in the annals of history as an amazing day. Pretty average today, though the one thing that brightened it up was a smile from an attractive girl on Cheapside Street Corner. Oh god, i just saw that sentence. To any reader, they are thinking, "You twat Evans, that's a hooker" - Fair enough but it was 8am in the morning! #latenightproz
All in all a decent day, nothing to rock the boot and now for some well needed rest
xx
Evening (or morning) fellow jog bloggers. I'm writing yesterdays blog today at nearly midnight Friday, which makes it tomorrow. That will mean by the time i write tomorrows blog (ie today, Friday) It will actually be tomorrow. Confused? I am.
Christ, i haven't been this confused since i mixed LSD and MDMA years ago. That really was a cluster fuck. Try doing a stock take on that shit, it's what i used to do every Sunday night after a weekend of caning it. Turn up at the all night garage for my night shift sparkling off my box, only to have to count the entire stock on 'handover'. I knew i was in trouble when the count got to 3 Biscuit and Raisin Yorkie bars before they turned into Dragons and danced merrily with the Double Deckers.
I couldn't really share that one with Alan Dixon, who i was 'relieving'. I hated that term when it came to taking over from someone on a shift. According to the manager i had to 'relieve' Alan every night at 7pm. He was a 68 year old Racist with a wooden leg, The thought of 'relieving him' & giving a hand job let alone seeing him shoot his racist little load on my palm was disgusting and Certainly not for £3.85 per hour.Minimum wage. The manager was paid more than me, why didn't he do it?
Anyway that was years ago. I digress.
Today's headline news - Alcoholic friend still drinking, Painful to see the disintegration and sad nature of the illness at work. I feel a mix of so many emotions, mostly sad and angry - a weird disabling mix, as ultimately it is like watching a very slow car crash.
Me nan, no change. Still not eating and i am off to see her on Saturday. Hard to believe a 96 year old hasn't eaten hardly anything for 10 days and still fighting like mad. Remarkable. I won;t share with her i've got a slight pain in my fit this weekend then.
Training wise, foot felt a bit iffy so headed to gym. Did 1 mile easy on warm up, then x5 brutal 2 minute hills up to number 11 incline. Brutal but good sesh. Wrapped up after 35 mins and 4 miles sufficiently buggered, gulping air and regretting i have smoked so much as the lungs felt hotter than Anthony Worral Thompson's shopping basket.
That's it really. Today won;t go down in the annals of history as an amazing day. Pretty average today, though the one thing that brightened it up was a smile from an attractive girl on Cheapside Street Corner. Oh god, i just saw that sentence. To any reader, they are thinking, "You twat Evans, that's a hooker" - Fair enough but it was 8am in the morning! #latenightproz
All in all a decent day, nothing to rock the boot and now for some well needed rest
xx
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
Day 66 - Weds 7th March
Rest Day Physically if not mentally
You know the difference between alcoholics drinking and alcoholics in recovery or most normal people? Recovery ones and normal people are there for others in times of need. Alcoholics who are drinking are not. They are unavailable, Utterly self absorbed in their own pain and problems. Dominating the enviroment. I think thats what turns people off of giving money for addiction charities or accepting it as a disease. Ultimately alkies are a massive pain in the arse and emotionally draining.
When one is low, or has a bad day, or has a bereavement or when something bad happens all you want as a human being is for your wife, husband, girl, boy or good friend to be there for you right?
Not to offer advice or tell you how you should act or feel. Or even the friends who offer unsolicited advice without really empasising or listening, they're great those are. Avoid at all costs.
No the best thing about people who are close to you, is they offer you time. They are solid, They are there. That is love. That is support, That is the best thing people can offer. When someone asks you how you are and then listens. They are the ones i want to run with in life, and those are the ones i will always remember and do my best for in return. My ex did so when my Father died. A rock and i never forget such acts.
Being the kid of an alcoholic and a brother of one and once being a boyfriend of one makes me used to having people being 'unavailable to you'. Being an alcoholic myself, it is very interesting to see the other side of the fence. It makes me see how utterly self obsessed, absorbed and self piteous i was with previous girlfriends, it wasn't conscious, just the way alcoholism manifests itself. Being in 'recovery' helps to take me away from that.
Don't get me wrong i'm still naturally self obsessed and absorbed bastard, but not drinking and working against the alcoholic personality helps me to manage it better. Thays what AA gives me.
I don't want to turn this into another rant. People who are not alkies have problems. Some terrible ones. Poverty, illness, death. People have it hard, so i'm not suggesting alcoholism should dominate headlines.
But today has highlighted how alkies are self obsessed. I don't want to go into details like previous blogs as in hindsight it's not fair on the person who is suffering. However out of hospital they came and straight back into secretive and unamangeable drinking. It is so utterly frustrating.
makes me remember growing up with the father and seeing a shell of a person and 90% disease. It;s like looking at one of those snowmen in a glass. trapped inside and you can't get in to shake them 'well'.
manipulative, arrogant, egotistical, pathetic, tragic and infuriating. I lost my temper so many times and had white anger. it's not their fault but 3 weeks of it has made me have enough, You cannot force someone to want to stop. Ultimately it's a hopeless cause.
This was All played out as my nan worsened today, Poor woman is laying in a hospital bed, 96 and unable to eat. It is only the force of my mother, her daughter, who has insisted the doctors treat her, otherwise they would have left her fade away because of her age, awful really. Considering she has paid 90 odd years of taxes and insurance. Oi, Osbourne, come here.
However, i'm not going to claim all that sadness for me. I'm not there, she's in Llanelli, i'm in London and her force of spirit and fight and backbone has enabled her to recover quickly, so we shall see what the week brings.
Today has been a bit of a downer. Highlighted many things for me and mostly the best thing i can offer people is time.
So tomorrow and maybe you reader can try this too. Take 5 miuntes out of your day and offer time to someone. Phone someone you havent phoned for ages, or ask someone something without expecting anything in return.
I guarantee you will feel better afterwards, leave me a comment on Facebook or this blog if it works, i'm interested
Big up those who sponsored me overnight, i'm loving you long time. And if you havent? Get on it - link on header at the top.
God bless you Nan (Mrs P) - you are a 3ft 1, welsh Matriach beauty
xx
You know the difference between alcoholics drinking and alcoholics in recovery or most normal people? Recovery ones and normal people are there for others in times of need. Alcoholics who are drinking are not. They are unavailable, Utterly self absorbed in their own pain and problems. Dominating the enviroment. I think thats what turns people off of giving money for addiction charities or accepting it as a disease. Ultimately alkies are a massive pain in the arse and emotionally draining.
When one is low, or has a bad day, or has a bereavement or when something bad happens all you want as a human being is for your wife, husband, girl, boy or good friend to be there for you right?
Not to offer advice or tell you how you should act or feel. Or even the friends who offer unsolicited advice without really empasising or listening, they're great those are. Avoid at all costs.
No the best thing about people who are close to you, is they offer you time. They are solid, They are there. That is love. That is support, That is the best thing people can offer. When someone asks you how you are and then listens. They are the ones i want to run with in life, and those are the ones i will always remember and do my best for in return. My ex did so when my Father died. A rock and i never forget such acts.
Being the kid of an alcoholic and a brother of one and once being a boyfriend of one makes me used to having people being 'unavailable to you'. Being an alcoholic myself, it is very interesting to see the other side of the fence. It makes me see how utterly self obsessed, absorbed and self piteous i was with previous girlfriends, it wasn't conscious, just the way alcoholism manifests itself. Being in 'recovery' helps to take me away from that.
Don't get me wrong i'm still naturally self obsessed and absorbed bastard, but not drinking and working against the alcoholic personality helps me to manage it better. Thays what AA gives me.
I don't want to turn this into another rant. People who are not alkies have problems. Some terrible ones. Poverty, illness, death. People have it hard, so i'm not suggesting alcoholism should dominate headlines.
But today has highlighted how alkies are self obsessed. I don't want to go into details like previous blogs as in hindsight it's not fair on the person who is suffering. However out of hospital they came and straight back into secretive and unamangeable drinking. It is so utterly frustrating.
makes me remember growing up with the father and seeing a shell of a person and 90% disease. It;s like looking at one of those snowmen in a glass. trapped inside and you can't get in to shake them 'well'.
manipulative, arrogant, egotistical, pathetic, tragic and infuriating. I lost my temper so many times and had white anger. it's not their fault but 3 weeks of it has made me have enough, You cannot force someone to want to stop. Ultimately it's a hopeless cause.
This was All played out as my nan worsened today, Poor woman is laying in a hospital bed, 96 and unable to eat. It is only the force of my mother, her daughter, who has insisted the doctors treat her, otherwise they would have left her fade away because of her age, awful really. Considering she has paid 90 odd years of taxes and insurance. Oi, Osbourne, come here.
However, i'm not going to claim all that sadness for me. I'm not there, she's in Llanelli, i'm in London and her force of spirit and fight and backbone has enabled her to recover quickly, so we shall see what the week brings.
Today has been a bit of a downer. Highlighted many things for me and mostly the best thing i can offer people is time.
So tomorrow and maybe you reader can try this too. Take 5 miuntes out of your day and offer time to someone. Phone someone you havent phoned for ages, or ask someone something without expecting anything in return.
I guarantee you will feel better afterwards, leave me a comment on Facebook or this blog if it works, i'm interested
Big up those who sponsored me overnight, i'm loving you long time. And if you havent? Get on it - link on header at the top.
God bless you Nan (Mrs P) - you are a 3ft 1, welsh Matriach beauty
xx
Day 65 - Tuesday 6th March
Mileage 7; Time 52 mins; Quick
Synopsis of the day
Commute - Grim
Work - Manageable - great meeting with Tower Hamlets College about giving something back to disadvantaged students. Me likes that. Makes one feel good inside.
Afternoon - friend home from hospital - drunk again and after drinking in hospital. severe alcoholism
Home - Difficult
Head - Messy
Training - fucking awesome - took my utter frustration out on the run and can only say i 'legged' it for 7 miles in 52 mins. Jesus i was powering on. Injury felt OK, head felt angry. I don't know what to do.
Best part of the day, a young girl, no more than 16-17 came into the gym, she was really obese and self conscious. Hid away in the corner and looked really scared. I was powering on the treadmill in my big gay outfit, muscles pumping and sweating like Andy Gray on Woman's Hour. She must have felt either intimidated or nauseous.
Anyway i really felt for her. She didn't really know what to do and obviously felt awkward about her size and the gym. Starting on the treadmill, then swapping machines. Aimless and self conscious. I knew that feeling well. It made my heart bleed a little.
So i stopped my run, went over to her and had a chat, asked her her 'programme' and got her doing some intervals, walking on treadmill up incline and down, running and walking. Offering encouragement and getting her to work harder. We got her working well and she enjoyed it, and it made me feel good.
I really feel for the vulnerable and it just makes me want to help. For a man riddled with self doubt and insecurity that comes naturally to me and makes me feel good. It seems like I was born to do stuff like that. Sounds a bit naff, but it fills up my soul more than getting the paper weight on the compliment slips right at work. (kill me now)
All that followed up with few cross training jumps, skips, core, stretching and felt good. Back to the house of hell and managed to stuff myself with chocolate, malt loaf and tea cakes. Never a good sign late at night, i always seems to cram in shitty food when in a state of emotional disturbance. My head fucking hurts from the insanity.
NN peoples
xx
Synopsis of the day
Commute - Grim
Work - Manageable - great meeting with Tower Hamlets College about giving something back to disadvantaged students. Me likes that. Makes one feel good inside.
Afternoon - friend home from hospital - drunk again and after drinking in hospital. severe alcoholism
Home - Difficult
Head - Messy
Training - fucking awesome - took my utter frustration out on the run and can only say i 'legged' it for 7 miles in 52 mins. Jesus i was powering on. Injury felt OK, head felt angry. I don't know what to do.
Best part of the day, a young girl, no more than 16-17 came into the gym, she was really obese and self conscious. Hid away in the corner and looked really scared. I was powering on the treadmill in my big gay outfit, muscles pumping and sweating like Andy Gray on Woman's Hour. She must have felt either intimidated or nauseous.
Anyway i really felt for her. She didn't really know what to do and obviously felt awkward about her size and the gym. Starting on the treadmill, then swapping machines. Aimless and self conscious. I knew that feeling well. It made my heart bleed a little.
So i stopped my run, went over to her and had a chat, asked her her 'programme' and got her doing some intervals, walking on treadmill up incline and down, running and walking. Offering encouragement and getting her to work harder. We got her working well and she enjoyed it, and it made me feel good.
I really feel for the vulnerable and it just makes me want to help. For a man riddled with self doubt and insecurity that comes naturally to me and makes me feel good. It seems like I was born to do stuff like that. Sounds a bit naff, but it fills up my soul more than getting the paper weight on the compliment slips right at work. (kill me now)
All that followed up with few cross training jumps, skips, core, stretching and felt good. Back to the house of hell and managed to stuff myself with chocolate, malt loaf and tea cakes. Never a good sign late at night, i always seems to cram in shitty food when in a state of emotional disturbance. My head fucking hurts from the insanity.
NN peoples
xx
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