So I actually managed to do it. I got round the 26.2 miles. I did it in neither an impressive, attractive or sexy way but the main thing is I did it, and now ladies and gentlemen I am ready to share with you the good and the bad of running a marathon…

Good things about running the marathon:

What a friendly bunch everyone is before you start running:
Now don’t get me wrong people don’t get less friendly as they go along, it’s just they have less puff and a lot more pain to deal with… Before the marathon it’s quite a different story. Waiting for the marathon to begin with all it’s delays could well have been a very nervous and lonely experience however as soon as I hit the Dodgers Stadium there was an amazing spirit with everyone chatting with each other like they’d known each other for years. I personally spoke to more people than I spoke to in all my time in LA away from the marathon and agreed to run about 16 marathons around the world with various men and women I’d never met before as well as telling all kinds of wild stories about why I was running with a Mel B barbie doll on my arm…

The supporters:
Without the supporters I think a lot of us runners who finished wouldn’t have. It might annoy the hell out of you at the time to have someone tell you “Pain is just weakness leaving the body” or “Pain is temporary but your time on the internet is forever” but it does cause you to find something in you that gives you the strength you didn’t know you had. They were also pretty darn amazing at having pieces of fruit and other delights to get your energy levels up again when you felt like you were going to keel over. I was particularly a sucker for the toddlers who held out things… I mean how could you refuse anything for those puppy dog eyes of theirs (I would also have taken anything Jennifer Beals tried to offer me for the very same reason…).

Finishing:
The best thing about the marathon without a doubt has to be finishing. Getting over the line and knowing you can finally stop is like all your Birthdays and Christmases coming at once…. well that is until the cramps set in and all you are focused on is not crying your eyes out!

Bad things about the marathon:

Realising you’ve started off a little fast:
Yes I know. It’s all about pacing yourself and I DID try, however for some reason at the beginning of the race however hard I tried I couldn’t stay on pace for more than 30 seconds… which I paid for big time at 11 mile. By 11 miles I was feeling hot, uncomfortable and cursing myself for not having more self control.

Achilles Tendons:
Seriously I don’t understand why we have them if they’re just going to be our weakness, and I have to admit I was slightly worried about my right one going into the marathon as it had been causing me issues all of the week running up to it. I had however been kind of reassured by the fact I was only in pain AFTER running. I therefore did not find it at all funny when at mile 6 I started to be in pain WHILST running. I also wasn’t happy that at that exact same time Just Sex by Billie Myers (the woman who got me to get myself into this silly mess) started playing on my iPhone.

Now believe me as hard as you imagine it you will not be imagine quite how much I cursed the woman loved and idolized by some many at that point. In fact I was so darn annoyed with her that I went to the lengthso of formulating a film script style conversation (look I had a lot of spare thinking time…) straight from the heart that would occur at the end which went something like this.

EXT. SANTA MONICA PIER – MARATHON END – AFTERNOON

Michelle has just finished the marathon, she’s cramping up and in some serious pain. The LA crew and imports made up of the lovely Val Guin, Mona , Halle Sherwin, Wen Foo, John Kwiatkowski and Billie Myers appear looking seriously impressed / excited that she’s actually finished it and in such style

BILLIE MYERS

Hey, you’ve finished! Wow…

Michelle look at her giving her an evil look that could cause instanteous death that Billie is only saved from because of her sunglasses

MICHELLE PENNY

You. You, don’t you talk to me. Because of you I have just been through what can only be described as one of the most painful experiences of my life. In fact to say I arrived at hell at mile 6 and remained there continuously at the end well that would be something of an understatement.

BILLIE MYERS

Ummm..

MICHELLE PENNY

(Cutting Billie off before she has the chance to say anything)

Yes And now that I’ve started… the carrying Baby Billie idea. Thanks for that. Such a funny idea. Really enjoyed it. Particularly for this rash that’s well let’s say stinging A LOT and has been for the last 25 miles of my life.

And you know what if you ever think about releasing a fourth album and want it promoted don’t even think about mentioning it to me. In fact as a courtesy to me don’t even release it in the UK as it will only ever be a painful reminder of this very painful day…

Sadly by the time I’d finished the marathon, got through those first cramping pains that involved me thinking I was going to die for about 15 minutes (thank you to the kind man who told me I looked like I was in a lot of pain but “was still looking cute”, we both know you were lying but you convinced me it might be worth trying to get up again), spent another 15 minutes trying to get my gear bag back from a pile of 25,000 bags before actually finding the delayed supporters I’d totally forgotten my film script and I believe came out with something as dramatic as “hello” to Ms Myers and crew.

Running On Your Lonesome:
It was great being part of 25,000 people running the marathon and I got to talk to some very cool people but personally I’d say if you’re going to run a marathon make sure you do it with other people you know.

Why?

Well firstly because running a marathon is a big thing to do and all the greatest experiences are best experienced with those closest to you, but also for another more selfish reason – when it gets tough in the marathon it gets seriously tough. For me 22 miles onwards involved some rather dark moments with some serious self loathing that seems to swing between “Why on earth are you doing this you idiot” (this is the polite version) to “What do you mean you’re thinking of stopping? How pathetic are you..” It sounds extreme but if you’ve run a marathon you’ll know what I’m talking about. Now I’m not saying running with friends / family (oh bless I can’t see any of my family running a marathon any time soon..) would stop this happening but the people who were running as a group who could moan happily between themselves were definitely coping better than us loners.

Drinking On The Run:
One thing I recommend any person running a marathon does is a lot of training. Not in the running sense but drinking out of small cups. Seriously after having run miles drinking out of bottles I thought I was set. Drinking and running was sooooo on.

Then the LA Marathon happened. Out of the first cup of water I think I got about three sips. The first sticky Powerade probably two at most with the rest down my legs. Then I discovered the trick. You squeeze the cup edges against each other at one end and drink from the spout at the other end.

And it worked. For a while. However I obviously got tired and started to not do it so well because on two occasions near the end I managed to not drink Powerade but inhale most of it up my nose, something I seriously don’t recommend!!

Heated Up Sports Gels:
Whilst I can understand it’s unfeasible for the LA Marathon to supply sports gels along the route it did pose a slight problem in how I was going to carry the 3 packs that I had worked out I needed. This included a lot extensive research of what others had done which included duct taping them to themselves and safety pinning them to the inside of their shorts.

Being a bit of a wuss I went with the latter option for two and made Baby Billie hold onto one for the first 6 miles. Now this was not only slightly uncomfortable but also had a second negative result – I heated up my sports gels.

Having run up till now with a running backpack on for my long runs I was used to having yucky tasting sports gels at normal temperatures. Now I had hot yucky sports gels and this was definitely not an improvement. Add to this I managed to lose my first one a dose too early and couldn’t open my last one (or the Powerbar some kind spectator gave me) because I was so darn tired that I couldn’t co-ordinate my fingers and we can safely say this won’t go down as my best marathon fuelling experience ever.

People Collapsing In Front Of You:
I’m a competitive fool who had a very unrealistic finish time in my head and around mile 18 when I was seriously behind I was undecided on what road to go down. I could carry on at the manageable pace I was at and get an okay time or I could speed up and push myself right to my limits for the next 8.2 miles and potentially throw up and collapse at the end.

Then I saw one of the fittest guys I’ve ever seen had dropped down in front of me and was not looking very good at all. The emergency services were there in a flash and were amazing with dealing with him and also in helping me make a decision – it’s just a marathon and you just need to get to the end. Not that that means I’m still not feeling really rather fed up that I didn’t achieve my time (damn my over-competitive self).

The End Pains:
I would say I don’t know why I decided to sprint the last mile of the marathon when I’d found the last 5 miles so hard but I do – it was my pride. Billie Myers had been doing some amazing reverse psychology on me all the way up to the marathon by being totally unsupportive when I tried to get her to give me some reassuring words about my 26.2 run, so when I knew she was going to be at the end I wasn’t going to be seen dragging myself over the line. I was going to go through the line looking like it had been a doddle.

Which is exactly what I did. I sprinted past people as I made my way down that last mile (which I miscalculated thinking the 26 mile marker was the end…) and powered(ish) through the end.

Then I stopped running and OMG everything hit at once.

First I went light headed. Then I turned into a drunk staggering from someone trying to get me a medal to someone else trying to wrap me in tin foil. Then the pain began. I can not describe the pain I felt in that first 20 minutes. My calves were killing me, my feet were throbbing like two big red blocks of pain and whilst I wanted to find everyone I seriously couldn’t move.

They were going to have to come to me.

But there posed another problem. My iPhone was attached to my arm and that meant I had to move limbs to get it off. Cue me taking 5 minutes to do what usually took 20 seconds with a lot of vocal “OUCH…. OUCH… OUCH!!”s.

Then I had to try and type something. Now remember I was already having problems opening bars and drinks and was by this point seriously tired. You cannot imagine how long it took me to type what was possibly the shortest message in the world. But I did it. Now all I needed to wait.

Well actually no. Now was when the AT&T saga began. Whilst I was getting all kinds of messages from my O2 network in the UK. Could I get any signal for more than two seconds on AT&T? No. It involved me having to walk stagger up and down the sidewalk to try and get a signal just in case someone wanted to get in touch. Cue a whole lot more “OUCH OUCH OUCH”s…. but never mind Ms Myers and crew were going to have to eat their disrespecting words…

Or not.

After what seemed like hours I got the first message back that the LA crew had got stuck in traffic (not their fault, the LA Marathon had decided to close every road ever built making it impossible for anyone to get anywhere even with hours of planning the night before) and hadn’t been at the finish so effectively I’d killed myself for nothing at all. My ego and me were gutted.

So would all those bad elements stop me running another marathon?

When I first finished I’d have said yes. Now I’m thinking a bit differently about it and the answer is probably not…. though I have conditions – I’d only run another if I was running it with someone else.

Marathons are life changing experiences but I think the experience running it alone is very different to running it with someone else. Alone it’s a fight against the voices in your head. Together it’s sharing an amazing experience and achievement…. which leads me to the question who’s going to run the next one with me?!?!

So the LA Marathon took place on 21st March and whilst Queeried’s Michelle thought she might die during it (and apparently she felt close to it about 4 or 5 times) she did actually manage to stumble over the line in just under 4 hours 30 mins.

Now running a marathon can be something of a lonely experience, especially when it’s feeling a bit tough, and Michelle definitely saw many a fellow runner going through some rather dark moments. She however was “lucky” as she was running with Baby Billie strapped to her arm who kept her company the whole way through.

Michelle had thought that the whole experience had drawn them closer together and that many they could be good friends. Sadly though once she was returned back into the arms of her singer/songwriter mother Billie Myers she suddenly changed becoming rather bitter, insulting and the owner of the strangest accent that anyone has ever heard…

There’s been a bit of a recurring theme to these LA marathon columns recently – snow, and I’m not quite finished with it yet. Remember how after the first lot of snow I said I realised that wasn’t proper snow but the second one was? Well it snowed again and I can confirm, and I promise that this is the last time I say it – this was proper snow.

This snow was the kind of snow you run along in, and suddenly find yourself disappearing down snow holes that you must then gracefully hop out of (unsuccessfully in my case) and pretend that was exactly what you wanted to do. It’s also the kind of snow to be avoided if you’re running in big open spaces. Why? Because in the case of my open spaces, which are all in one area divided by a few roads, the only landmarks are trees and big houses that all look exactly the same. Now that’s fine when you can see the ground because I can see the worn paths that let me know where I am. When there’s 3 feet of snow no chance. It was like running through a foam party (I don’t know why I say that I’ve never actually run through a foam party…) that went on forever where all I seemed to do, whether I went left or right, was end up exactly where I started, and after a couple of times I had no idea where that was either!

So you can imagine I was pretty glad when it all started to melt and I could once run on the pavements I once so hated. Running on that as opposed to rock hard ice felt like running on sponge, and I bounded happily along on my planned 21 mile run on Sunday delighting in how much easier it felt having had to run against the resistance of all that snow.

That was until I got to mile 10.

At mile 10 it became obvious that my bounding along like I was some (very very slow) Olympic marathon runner was not such a good idea. At this point it began to hurt. At the time I thought it hurt a lot, by 14 miles I realised that it hadn’t hurt a lot at 10 miles, it hurt a lot at 14 miles, by mile 18 agony was not the word for how my legs felt. Seriously I think I could have probably laid down, curled up in a ball and just waited for my painful self to die.

But then I’m not the kind of person who does that. I’m far too proud to let anyone see me fail, so even though it hurt more than anything I’d ever felt before, the moment I saw two people come into view I stopped staggering, put on the most poppy song I could find, gave myself a stern talking to and went running past them like it was my first mile (we won’t mention I got the worst stitch ever after doing so and then promptly ran out of water to drink with three miles to go… )

Now I’m pretty sure you think I’m exaggerating. It can’t be that bad can it. Your legs can’t hurt so much that it becomes all encompassing and wipes out everything else, surely…. I can prove otherwise, at around mile 9 I thought my earphone cord was rubbing me a little bit at the base of my arm / side when I was running so I tried to adjust it, but couldn’t really do much so left it. It was about this point that my legs began to hurt and I really didn’t really notice anything else concerning my arm.

Twelve miles later when I’d hit mile 21, stopped and fallen in through my front door, I remembered this slight rubbing so decided to take a look and see if there was a small graze.

There wasn’t. What there was was a 2 inch square open wound that had been bleeding down my arm and side from where my cord had been constantly whipping me. A wound that I’d not felt at all because all my body could focus on was how much my poor little legs hurt. However whilst I may not have noticed this blood pouring down my arm it suddenly became obvious that all the people I’d run past who’d give my arm a funny look weren’t thinking my music was too loud (I was thinking it was ridiculous seeing as I kept turning it down), but obviously watching me slowly drain myself of blood.

And I can tell you now that whilst this wound didn’t hurt whilst I was running it hurts now. A lot. And on the what other people think of it, so far I’ve had a “Oh my GOD!”, “Yuck!”, “Why are you doing this to yourself?”,  and from my mother a very sad look that basically said “I can’t believe I carried you for 9 months and now you’re just destroying yourself” – it should however be noticed on the latter I get the same look even if I get a tiny bruise and is connected to the fact she’s a bit OCD about making sure the things she “owns” look perfect.

But hey all this pain and suffering it’s all part of the marathon experience isn’t it??!

By the way I’m currently one person short of being able to dress my stunning running wound properly. Any volunteers? My last one person attempted involved me discovering the slight issue that I can only bandage it with my arm up, and then once I’ve done that I can’t put it down again!

I may come across a confident young thing, okay that’s pushing it, a confident thing. Fine fine, a thing then… but I have a confession to make. I’ve now entered a period of having regular wobbles about the marathon (take wobbles to mean continual gulping, rapid tapping of my fingers against surfaces and me suddenly going very pale). These can hit me at any time and will then act to render me useless in whatever I should be doing whether it be doing some work, having a chat with a friend or performing open heart surgery (no wait that’s not me that’s Connie Beauchamp…)

Now for most people I’m sure they’d be nervous about whether they’d finish, if their legs are going to fall off or whether they will become so dehydrated that they will turn into a raisin. Not so much for me. I will finish (maybe not the same day..), my legs won’t fall off (they’ll just turn into lead weights) and well maybe I will turn into a raisin, but I’m more concerned about two things.

The first is looking like I’ve died. Now I know I shouldn’t care but I do. I really do not want any photos of me looking like I’ve just come out of the grave. And here lies the problem. At the moment after just 20 miles I don’t just look like that, I look like I’ve come out of the grave after a couple of years and I’ve started to rot.

So what to do? Well I was thinking of getting my Mum to write a letter to the man in charge of the marathon and say that I’m ill or something but I’m not sure that’s going to work. So it’s going to have to be Plan B. I will have to spend the next few weeks attempting to kill myself via the weapon of exercise. This will either lead to me a) killing myself or b) being far better to cope. If I’m really honest I’m hoping the end result is a) as this will solve all problems.

But that’s only one thing. I said there were two. And the other thing is  that I’m going to do what a lot of first marathon runners do, and that is throw up at the end.

Yes I know I’m sorry you probably don’t want to read that (if you don’t want to read that you also probably won’t want to know that I’ve now got blood blisters under all my toe nails except three, and that I’ve been bursting them one by one causing small blood fountains…) but as they say it’s important to share.

So why am I convinced I’m going to puke / vomit / generally embarrass myself? Well because I’ve been doing a bit of sprint finish (take that to mean not very much of a sprint finish) practice at the end of some of my runs and well let’s just say it was a close thing when I came to stop. And that’s in bitterly cold UK weather. Add in some LA warm weather and me getting a bit hot and I think we’ve got the perfect “I think I might…” scenario.

But maybe it won’t happen. Maybe I’ll be fine. But maybe if you’re there you should stand back a little as I cross the line… just to be safe.

Oh, and when I said it was bitterly cold weather to train in. Well that was a lie. It’s more like I’m training in the North Pole. Remember I said in a earlier column there had been snow. Well I’ve realised now that wasn’t proper snow. Now it’s proper snow. Now it’s running through snow filled open spaces that nearly comes up to my knees. Now it’s running through these open spaces being very aware there was a stream somewhere but now you can’t see anything but white and you’re pretty sure you’re going to fall head first into it. Now it’s like running against a brick wall that you try and sprint through but end up going nowhere and are really tempted to just flop forward into and make a snow angel.

Snow, snow, everywhere..

Always important to have a back up in case you can't get home

The rather dangerous bottle stealing variety of snow

But now in a warped kind of way it’s still fun. Fun in a darn hard kind of way where every mile takes you twice as long. Fun in a way that causes you to fall out of your running shoes and then immediately collapse on the living room floor in dramatic style when you get home. Fun in a then standing up and realising absolutely everything from your toes to your bum is excruiatingly painful and you’re now certain having a hotel right by the finish line is the only way to go.

And this marks the perfect time to offer a little advice to anyone who is a spectator at LA Marathon and sees me at around mile 20 (I’ll be the dead looking one). This is not going to be a good point to tell that I’m nearly there. Believe me I have done a few 20 miles now and the idea of 6.2 more miles feels less like nearly there and more like “Oh look there’s my death around the corner”. Don’t also think of saying it at 21 miles, 22 miles, 23 miles, 24 miles, 25 miles or 26 miles. You can say it at 26.15 miles. No earlier. If you do I will, and I make no apology for this, burn through your head with my laser evil glare… and whilst you’re applying ice to that remember how lucky you are that they were handing out machine guns at the water station before I got to you because the result could have been a whole lot worse.

And just be glad it weren’t be snowing there, because I’ve been making some mean snowballs..

So there are now just 75 days to the LA Marathon and I’m as far from my blasé everything is going to be fine stage as is humanly possible. In fact I’ve entered the stage where I go pale and feel the need to take rather deep breaths and tap my fingers dramatically just thinking about it.

And it’s not just about the running that’s bothering me, though I’m pretty sure I’ve totally forgotten how to do that. I’m also slightly anxious that the only thing I’ve paid for is the marathon entry. This leaves me with flights to organise, hotels to sort out, oh and then there’s the running shoes that I need to buy and run in, but not run in too much so they’re dead by the marathon time which I have no idea how to time properly.

I know what you’re thinking. I should calm down and jusr go and organise everything. Well easier said than done. Firstly the running shoes. I don’t want anything special. I just want a certain brand of shoes that I know will cushion my feet and give them the support they need. In fact I know the exact pair I want. It’s the pair you see in every running shop you go in. The pair there’s always plenty of them to choose from.

But not now. Oh no. Now I’m in a panic they don’t have any in my size ANYWHERE. Not even on the internet. Not even if I keep pressing refresh just in case they restock in the split second between the last refresh. And yes I have already reached the point of wondering whether it’s worth shaving a bit off the top of my toes so I can get in the size below.

Then there’s the flights and hotels. Well that’s just getting more confusing by the second. The LA marathon has certain hotels it recommends so my plan had always been to just go with one of those and buy flights separately.

Sounds like a plan. A good plan in fact. So why then did I decide it would be a good idea to go looking at flight and hotel deals. Now I’ve done that I know I can get much better deals, but then they aren’t anywhere near the start or the end of the marathon which means organising other hotels to use the night before the big day. Now when most people reached this point they would just stop being silly and just go back to plan A. Not me. I’m now onto about Plan J which I think has me staying in a different hotel in a different part of LA every night with me flying out there and coming back on a cargo ship. And don’t expect it to stop there. I believe by tomorrow I will be on at least plan AZ.

But enough about all this slightly very important stuff. You want to know how well the running is going? Well let’s see in the last month I pulled my left hamstring so badly I couldn’t even walk on it without looking like a complete fool and doing grimacing, then just as that was healing I went out running in the heavy snow and promptly smacked myself into a park bench mid skid to try and not fall over. Cue my knee swelling up, growing a second knee to the side, turning black and not bending. Oh, and if that wasn’t enough, the cushioning in my current running shoes has now completely gone and caused me to injury my tendon in my left foot which means having to buy ANOTHER pair of running shoes to fill the gap between now and when I should start running in the marathon shoes that I don’t know when to start running in so they aren’t worn out.

And in true Brit form I’ve not finished moaning yet. I’ve got plenty left in the tank. Here in the UK it has snowed a lot recently. Apparently it’s the first time it’s ever happened because no one bothered to grit the roads or do anything on the pavements meaning it snowed and then promptly turned to ice. Very slippery ice. Now in some places that’s fine. You can jump onto crispy bits of grass that has so hard they jar your ankle, but not everywhere. And definitely not on a certain bridge in a little village called Cookham near where I live.

Approaching said quaint bridge I saw an old couple tentatively edging down the edge of the bridge holding onto the side all the way. I thought that’s quite sweet but a little over the top and was a quite looking forward to jogging past and impressing them. That was until I actually got to the bridge, also now known unaffectionately as the ice rink. Completely covered in thick ice from one side to the other, I had totally misjudged it and coming at it at some speed (that’s possibly the biggest exaggeration of the year so far) I immediately skidded about three metres forward and for the second time in less than a week smacked myself into a solid object, this time in the shape of a very large brick bridge. Now obviously this collision made something of a noise which caused the couple who are still very tentatively edging along to look round (whilst holding on VERY tight to the bridge), to which I who had just about regained my composure then also looked behind me pretending I had no idea what on earth that noise could be either…

Oh and if you think that’s as worse as it could get, another 10 miles later into the run when I would really have been happy if someone had just shot me and put me out of my misery I realised my brain had obviously fallen out somewhere because I came to a gate on a public footpath that I couldn’t for the life of me fathom how to open. After faffing about for at least five minutes whilst trying to jog at the same time I decided the best bet would be to just leap over it which I did and I couldn’t get over how impressed I was for doing it. In fact I was still praising myself at the other end of the field when I approached another gate that I actually managed to open…. then discovered after running a metre that an elastic cord on my running jacket was still attached to it causing me to be flung dramatically back again.

I hate running.

Look at any guide to running the marathon and they’ll tell you there’s a honeymoon period when you first start training when it feels amazing and each additional mile comes with a new high you just can’t get enough of.

What they’ll also say is that it’s very likely that after a few weeks of this high you’ll hit the ground with a very large thud, something I have to say I thought was a tad dramatic.

Well that was until last week.

Last week marked week 17 before the marathon, one week before week 16, the week when any serious marathon runner really should be getting down to some serious hardcore training.

It also marked the week when I completely lost my sense of humour about the whole thing.

In fact I didn’t only mislay my sense of humour, I lost all motivation for anything to do with the marathon full stop. The thought of running filled me with dread, the runs themselves were horrendous and  however fast or slow I ran I couldn’t find any sort of pace that allowed me to get anywhere near that daydreamy stage. Oh, and if you thought it was a good idea to joke about my running then you didn’t after when I’d burnt a hole in your head with the evils I gave you.

So what do you do when you’ve got something as big as the marathon to train for but would rather be doing anything but?

Well there’s one magic formula that I’m going to share with you all. You stop being such a fool about it and you get over it.

For me  that’s meant mixing up my routes. So now instead of pounding the streets and playing the “My god that house is 12 times the size of mine however did they afford it, let’s depress ourselves a little more” game, I’ve started darting off down public footpaths that head to who knows where, and it’s worked a treat for two reasons.

The first is it’s November and there’s not a dry bit of muddy track about. This means as soon as I head off down one of these footpaths it feels like I’ve begin Army Assault Course training. Now if I was sensible, on hitting these tracks I would begin by tentatively putting my foot down, but seeing as I’m now in the Army (go along with me on this) then there’s no room for something as girly as that,  so instead I thump my foot down as though I’m still pounding the streets, leading one of two things to happen:

1. The ground opens up, sucks my foot up, and I get well and truly stuck, thus spending the next 30 seconds trying to wiggle it out again like a fool (obviously still running on the spot with my other foot to keep my heart rate up…)
2. My foot goes down then appears to keep going down for at least another metre and comes back up filled with water.

Once this has happened I then begin, and I presume this looks very strange because I feel rather a prat doing it, the leap from the millimetre of grass on one side of the track to the millimetre on other to try and keep my feet marginally dry. I have to admit this doesn’t sound like the best thought out plan, and well to be honest it doesn’t really work at all as I tend to spend most of it sliding along on muddy patches and the rest of it tripping over logs and branches, but it not only focuses my mind off the “poor me” frame of mind I’ve got myself into but sees a couple of miles fly past without me even noticing.

And then there’s the second reason. Going down public footpaths where I live tend to lead you to end up in the middle of nowhere (the other day I ended up in a field so large I couldn’t actually seen anyone or anything else from any angle and did wonder if the world had come to an end whilst I’d been running through a wood), and my house definitely isn’t in the middle of nowhere leading me into a blind panic (usually because I have a conference call with someone in about 30 minutes time) that I somehow need to find my way home and then running definitely doesn’t seem like a chore – it’s a necessity!

On top of route changes my running playlist has been switched off on my iPhone and replaced with podcasts (I’d recommend it for banishing those unmotivating voices in your head – you can only have some many voices talking at once and the volume on my iPhone goes louder than the voices in my head) and I’ve got a whole new respect for this running thing – in fact after beginning to think I wasn’t sure I could actually even run a mile properly any more I went out this morning and knocked 25 minutes off my half marathon time doing what was essentially nothing more than an easy jog!

So there are now 19 weeks before I will be running the LA Marathon, and seeing as just about any running plan out there say you need 16 weeks I’m still in the in the “oh it’ll going to be fine” stage.

By the time there are only 16 weeks left, however, I will obviously change and become super stressed and snappy whenever anyone asks how my training is going (you have been warned…)

But anyway for the moment it’s all good. My runs are getting faster and longer, and apart from still suffering very bravely from my knee injury, I’m managing to stay injury free, something that I’m hoping is going to long continue with my new running Vibram Five Fingers Classic running shoes.

Now I know these look a bit funny (okay very funny), but there’s logic behind my madness in getting a pair, and it’s nothing to do with looks, and all to do with injuries. I have in my running lifetime managed to pull, tear and twist just about every muscle, ligament and tendon in my right leg, and I have to admit I’ve never been too good at practising what I preach in terms of rehabilitation, something I’ve definitely paid for it with these first few weeks of training.

My former strategy, when the longest I ran was 800m, was to spend couple of minutes racing on the track, then hop off and curse a lot at the pain I was in. I’ve come to the conclusion if I want to finish the same day I can’t hop 26.2 miles, and I’m not willing to give up however much anything hurts, so I’m trying my hardest to make sure nothing does, and these Vibrams are going to help me do it

How? Well it’s all down to the benefits of barefoot running (wearing Vibram Five Fingers is as close as you can get to going barefoot without, well going barefoot) which willl not only strengthen my feet, but also my lower legs, as well as making me more responsive and agile when running, and not get caught out by all the lumps and bumps you miss in a good old cushioned pair of trainers.

And this isn’t just marketing spiel from the guys at Vibram. Never one to believe anything that anyone tells me without having 96 independent sources to back it up, I’ve been getting all academic about it and reading some sport science papers on barefoot running with their findings confirming this, proving running barefoot not only decreases the changes of lower limb injuries, but also, as an added bonus, reduces oxygen consumption … and with 26.2 miles to run I think I could probably do with having a bit of oxygen to spare.

So that’s why ladies and gentlemen if you see me out running you’re likely to see me doing it in what looks like a pair of frogs feet…

Which brings me, not very tidily I grant you, onto the subject of animals, and how I seem to have become something of a Doctor Doolite of the running world.

And it all started with cats.

When I first started training for the marathon, I seemed to acquire a cat from every third or fourth house that I ran past which would then run alongside me for about 10 metres.

Then it moved onto dogs which seemed to appear from nowhere in the middle of parks, and would proceed to either trip me over by keep running round my legs or jump up and want to play.

It was then to be the turn of foxes to sprint out across woodland paths first thing in the morning, causing us both to jump out of our skins.

And then from the skies the kites started joining in.

Flying in groups of 3 or 4, these kites have now started to follow me round the park at the bottom of my road. Quite why I’m not sure as I’d presume I’m a little bit too big for them, but one thing I do know is that they’re very distracting – I very nearly ran into a tree last week whilst watching them practising their swooping.

But we’re not finished with kites. We still have squirrels to come. Very polite squirrels in fact, one of which I met last week on my long Sunday run.

Now I’d been getting a bit bored with the route I’d been running for the last few Sundays, so I decided I wanted to take a different route into a bit of woodland which had a fence running off down alongside the pathway. As I came in line with the fence I noticed there was a squirrel sitting on the toplooking like he wanted to go to the tree on the opposite side of the pathway, so being the polite English person I am I slowed down so I didn’t scare him, so he could. He didn’t go anywhere so I thought I’ll just carry on.

So I did.

And he did.

So now we’re both running along, me on the path and him on the top of the fence. However he’s still looking like he wanted to cross, so I slow down again. He turns his head, looks at me in a “Oh so you can’t keep up with the pace” kind of way (and yes squirrels can do that kind of look) and slows down.

So then we speed up again.

Then we slow down again.

And speed up again.

Now we’ve gone a good 250 metres together, and actually reached the end of the pathway, so I give him one last chance and actually tell him he should go first, but being the polite squirrel he was he wouldn’t, so I gave up and went ahead only to discover when I turned around that he watched me for another 5 metres or so before gently climbing down his fence and popping up on the tree on the other side.

If only men in white vans driving near big puddles would be so polite.

Photo by Penningtron

Ranking alongside my agreement to attend a three week conference in Germany to speak on the environment policies on my local borough that I knew nothing about (alongside speaking none of the languages of the other countries attending), as one of the most stupid decisions of my life, was my offer to run a charity marathon if singer / songwriter Billie Myers got 1000 fans on her Facebook Fan Page.

Quite why I said it I still have no idea, I had no doubt she would get her 1000  fans so it wasn’t that.  Maybe I presumed she’d suddenly decide she wanted to become a farmer and would close her Facebook page down.  Or maybe I had taken too many of those red and blue pills the day before.

Whatever the reason, one thing is now certain – I have a marathon to train for. The LA Marathon on March 21st 2010, in fact.

So how it’s all going so far? Well the first proper session was amazing. I seemed to run forever.

Then I got home.

Taking off those once much loved New Balance running shoes I was kinda aware all was not right. I’d started to have some pain in my feet whilst running, but with each pull of my shoe it got worse. In fact I have never in my entire life (and we’re talking about someone who’s not only an ex-competitive runner but also ripped herself to shreds on rock faces) felt so much pain from my feet. Ever.

And so began a week of very strange walking, no running, and me throwing those very uncushioned  New Balanxe running shoes in the bin, and replacing them with a nice new spongy pair of Mizunos.

So landmark one was passed – the first injury.

A week later, my poor damaged peroneal tendons were feeling much happier, and I began staking up the miles as though I’d be running the marathon tomorrow….

… which was to be rookie marathon runner mistake number two – too many miles too fast.

Now if you know me personally, this running mistake will come as no surprise to you, because I’m competitive, very competitive.

In fact, an example of how competitive can be seen from a recent running session when I had to leave an athletic track after a sprinter started training.  Watching him speed up and down the track, whilst I was going at my steady pace, soon had my competitive switch firmly knocked on, and suddenly I was speeding up to beat him, even though I was more than aware I was training to run over 26 miles more than him…

Anyway back to rookie mistake number two.

So what do you get for running too many miles too fast? In my case two things, a knee ligament injury that caused my knee to swell up on the right every time I went running so I could only turn left - cue comical one way laps) and an Achilles injury.

On opposite legs of course.

So we were back at  hobbling again (except in heels when all surprisingly felt cured – there’s something said for being girly).

With three injuries down in less than a month, it’s going to come as no surprise that I quickly came to the decision that this probably wasn’t that way ahead. Well, that and thinking how much trouble I’d be in if I told any ex coaches my running strategy.

I decided to stop messing about and get serious. I need to find a marathon training plan to get me where I needed to. And I have in the rather challenging running plan as set out by Runner’s World Run Less, Run Faster program.

Reducing my runs from 6 times a week to 3 times a week, this is made up of three different runs:

- A fast workout of about 5k which works on improving my speed and max VO2

- A medium tempo workout of up to 10 miles that works on my endurance and lactate threshold

- A long workout focused on upping my aerobic metabolism that peaks at 20 miles.

Working brilliantly to get my body prepared for the different elements required for the marathon, this running plan also sees me do cross training on two of the other days to help further improve my aerobic capacity.

Add to that the muscle strengthening sessions I’m doing each day (each day focusing on a different part of my body) and it’s all feeling a whole lot less amateur, and a whole lot more professional (though I’m pretty sure Paula Radcliffe still has very little to worry about).

And I have to say it seems to be working. My lungs are more than standing up the challenge the new plan is putting them under, and I’ve fallen in love with mile 8 – it’s when my lungs stop burning and I start feeling like I could go on forever (something my legs sadly haven’t quite reached the point of…)

So fingers crossed, by the time I hit LA I’ll be fitting fit and ready to actually achieve the rather over-optimistic time I told the LA Marathon time I would run when I entered. And no I’m telling you it until I’m sure I can do it.

Coming up next week: Tales of overly polite squirrels and funny looking shoes…

Photo by Seamus Murray.