all[1]I have found one thing I LOVE about training for a Marathon and that is the amount I can eat.  This was yesterday’s menu:


Giant soup bowl of muesli and a banana


Cheese and ham toastie

Packet of crisps

Mars bar


Spaghetti Bolognese

Half a tub of Haagen Daz ice cream with chocolate sauce on top

Today someone commented on how toned and trim I am looking these days.  Husband even likened my stomach to Jessica Ennis’s washboard  but he then continued the sentence with ‘And can you sort out the house insurance and take 5 suits to the dry cleaners for me?’ so I question his sincerity.

When I did my 17 mile run last week my glorious NikePlus sports watch said that I had burned 2150 calories along the way.  That is truly amazing and probably more calories than I would have eaten in a whole week pre-Marathon training.  But seriously I eat such a huge amount these days I am really worried that I am going to balloon once the Big Day is over unless I keep on running and running and running like Forrest Gump.

I am running the New York Marathon 2013 for Macmillan Cancer Support. If you are enjoying reading my blogs please donate at:



Pamela Anderson[1]I have heard that Pamela Anderson of Baywatch fame will be running the New York Marathon with me this year.  I sure hope she wears a good sports bra otherwise she could take out 2000 runners before the Mile 1 marker.  I don’t usually care what I look like when running however for the Big Event I am considering a spray tan, nail extensions and false eyelashes just in case I end up on the front cover of Hello! magazine with Tom Cruise.  Apparently Pamela has run up to 10 miles so far.  Not exactly the recommended training regime for this distance.  I, on the other hand, ran 17 painful miles yesterday.  I am forced to sit and write a blog this morning as anything more strenuous than staring at a laptop is out of the question today.  I hate these EXTRA LONG RUNS so much that the thought of doing one on a Sunday actually spoils the rest of the weekend.  The only time I cheer up is when I have limped home, had a shower, and sat down to eat a whole Victoria sponge singlehandedly in front of the X Factor.  Boy that feels good.  The great news is that I now only have 3 more EXTRA LONG training runs before the Marathon and after, if I chose, I don’t ever  have to run another mile.  That sounds so good right now.

Just to clarify we have paid for our flights, accommodation and Marathon entries ourselves so that every penny I raise will go directly to benefit Macmillan Cancer Support. If you are enjoying reading my blogs please donate at:


Ealing Half Marathon

EHM%20logo%20RW3A worrying trend is appearing.  My last blog was about the East Grinstead 10K and this one is about the Ealing Half Marathon.  Help.  I seem to be doing a lot of running!  Husband woke me up at 5.45am on Sunday and I opened my eyes to realise it was obscenely early, a Sunday and I had to run 13.2 miles.  Not a good start.  Husband is always really cheerful at this time of the morning which makes me twice as grumpy.  One minute I was stuffing a bowl of Bran Flakes down and the next minute he was driving me to West London at a nauseating speed.  We arrived at the Start at 7.30am and I made a mental note that I could in fact have spent another 1 hour and 44 minutes in bed as the race didn’t start until 9.15am.  Husband had got a big team together from Mercedes Brentford and I was very unhappy that the first time I met his work colleagues I was stuffed into Lycra and makeup free.  Not exactly dressing to impress.  They all seemed very charming and genuinely pleased to be there at that time in the morning.  What an odd bunch.   As usual I hovered at the back of the 5700 excessively enthusiastic runners and got off to a slow plod.  ‘Come on Joyce’ I heard someone shout, then another, then another.  I then realised that Husband’s PA had got the name on my top printed so small and in such a swirly font that ‘Jayne’ looked like ‘Joyce’.  Oh great.  ‘Do I really look like a Joyce.  Aren’t they all 75 with permed hair and thick glasses?’  Still at least they weren’t shouting ‘Come on Bruce!’  One good thing about the race was that I did not have a clue where I was going nor when the hills were.  This meant that I did not have time for much pre-hill depression and I tried to take them in my stride.  I actually noted that I was overtaking more people than were overtaking me.  This felt great and so unusual.  By Mile 10 everything was starting to ache and ‘Come on Joyce’ was the only thing that kept me going.  I staggered over the finish line 2 hours 34 minutes after I had set off.  Not a great time but it was my fastest ever 5K, 10K and half marathon and I DID NOT COME ANYWHERE NEAR LAST.  The only thing that spoilt the glory was the thought that in 5 week’s time I will have to do twice that distance.  How could that be humanly  possible?

I am running the New York Marathon 2013 for Macmillan Cancer Support. If you are enjoying reading my blogs please donate at:


East Grinstead 10K

Thank you to everyone who came to my Macmillan World Biggest Coffee Morning today.  We raised over £600.

image002[1]Last Sunday was the East Grinstead 10k.  I have done this race in the past and have always come in second from last, hotly pursued by Little Trevor of course.  Little Trevor wasn’t running this year and I was particularly keen to see whether all my training had paid off.  Husband Trevor was off on some obscenely LONG RUN that day so I hitched a lift in Little Trevor’s blue Polo.  It was nice to spend some time with him being driven down the A22 at break neck speed.  I  realised that this was partly caused by his inability to see over the steering wheel.  As usual there were lots of superb athletic specimens on the start line.  Many were running around the playing field to warm up.  I knew that if I did that I would be so exhausted I wouldn’t finish the race.  I got chatting to a lovely 80 year old lady as I lurked about at the back.  She said that she was a very slow runner and just enjoyed taking in the scenery on these runs.  ‘ Mmmmm’ I thought ‘I have chance of beating her.’  Sadly she shot off like a greyhound at the start and I only caught up with her when she slowed down to tell a fellow runner that she was in training for her 5th London Marathon.  My ‘Octogenarian Elite Athlete’ warning system was activated and I resigned myself to being last.  At one point the race goes down the Worth Way to a turning point then the runners come back the same way.  I was gutted to notice that before I had even huffed and puffed onto this section runners were coming back!  Soon I settled into my usual mode, completely on my own trying to think about anything but running whilst running.  As it was a race I did put in a bit of extra effort and noticed that a few ‘Weightwatchers new recruits’ were actually behind me.  I made sure they stayed there and I finished 8th from last.  Brilliant!  Little Trevor was on the finishing line yelling ‘Come on Runner Bean’ and leaping up and down so much he looked normal height for a few fleeting nano seconds.  This spurred me on and I did a pretty good sprint finish.  As usual he made lots of positive comments about me being 5 minutes faster than last year and he failed to point out that, according to his clipboard, I was 12 minutes slower than the next Lingfield runner.  That is why I love him.



Forest_Way_-_Luxfords_Lane[1]I am holding a World’s Biggest Coffee morning for Macmillan Cancer Support on Friday 27th September 9.30am to 12.30pm at The Victoria Club, High Street, Lingfield.  Do please join me for yummy homemade cakes, stalls and more…

There is only one thing worse than LONG runs and that is VERY LONG runs.  My datum has certainly shifted.  A few months ago I baulked at the thought of running  3 miles.  Now I think, ‘Oh good 13 down only 4 to go!’  Last week I did my VERY LONG run along Forest Way, a former railway line which goes from East Grinstead to Groombridge which, I would like to point out, is in the next county, Kent.  Yes I am now going international with my running.  Forest Way is great.  It is very flat, traffic free and straight. The downside is it is interminably boring.  Mile after mile of leafy former railway lines and embankments.  In fact the scenery was so monotonous I didn’t know whether I was coming or going. When  a route involves running to a specific point and then retracing my steps  I keep thinking ‘Oh God have I got come back ALLLL the way along here?!’  Husband and Toby, the Pointer, came along for moral support but both of then soon tired of trying to keep down (the opposite of keep up) with me.  At the 14 mile point I had had it.  My back crippled me, blood was oozing out of a blister on my foot and I was soaked to my goose pimpled blotchy skin.  ‘Shall I just sprint the next 3 miles and pick up the car and collect you?’ Husband said helpfully.  I actually think he was getting worried that we might struggle to get home in daylight at this speed.  ‘No!’  I exclaimed ‘I WILL WALK IT!’  And so I did, on my own, mile after bloody boring mile of fern fringed track.  I did the usual calculation of how long the New York Marathon would take me at this speed but the stats were so depressing I might have thrown myself off a railway bridge if I had spotted one at that moment.  By the time I got back to the start point Husband and dog were all cosy in the cafe having had tea and bacon sandwiches and read the Sunday Times from cover to cover.  In the absence of any horse strength tranquilisers to numb my aching joints I settled for a bacon sandwich and four flapjacks…


Toe talk

tumblr_m84x6mlw681r6pjb6o1_500[1]Husband has got the most seriously disgusting toe nails.  They are black and deformed.  Sometimes when I catch a glimpse of them as we get into bed I am tempted to run off to the spare room.  His ‘Fungi Feet’ as I call them, have always been at source of morbid curiosity to me, like something you might see pickled in a jar in the science lab at school.  The problem is I now have them.  I could claim that I caught them off him like Mumps or Measles but the truth is they are Runner’s feet.  I once Googled ‘Runners black toe nails’ and it appears this is a very common complaint, so I guess I should wear them like a badge of honour.  ‘I must be a proper runner now I have these gross mutant appendages.’  However the deformities don’t stop there.   I also have the most enormous lumps of hard skin dotted around my hooves. They are like giant carbuncles which have ruled out any strappy sandals for the whole of the summer.  Apparently as a distance runner you must not get them removed as they are grow to protect you from the impact of putting your feet down about 80 times per minute for hours on end. There is absolutely no way I could I could go for a pedicure now without requesting a  particularly strong stomached beautician in advance who won’t gag when I remove my shoes.  Oh the joys of running.  Thank God black nail varnish is still in.

I am running the New York Marathon 2013 for Macmillan Cancer Support. If you are enjoying reading my blogs please donate at:


Legalised Torture

SAMSUNGThe other evening a friend of mine suggested that I went for a sports massage after I complained about tender tendons and aching hamstrings. ‘What a wonderful idea’ I thought. ‘ I can class that as marathon training without doing any running’.  I booked an appointment at Lingfield Osteopathic Clinic with a nice sounding young man called Adam.  I had a massage once before on a Hen weekend.   A pretty lady in a pastel uniform had pummelled me gently in a room filled with scented candles and soft music as I drifted in and out of consciousness for an hour.

Adam was a nice, fit young man, just as I had imagined.  He ushered me into a treatment room and asked all the usual questions about exercise and injuries etc.  ‘Pop on the couch’ he said.  I did willingly, just getting ready for an hour’s relaxation in the middle of a busy day…  ‘You do know this is going to Hurt don’t you?’  He asked with a sadistic grin. ‘Hurt??’  I was about to have a quick snooze.  Then he started… I have never experienced such agony, well not since childbirth. He poked, pummelled and squeezed my legs as I literally howled in pain and let out more than a few swear words. ‘Is this room sound proofed?’ I screamed as he attacked my iliotibial bands with vigour.  Crikey, the pain was so intense I ended up with my fist in my mouth. ‘What on earth will that Old Dear in the waiting room think when she hears this?  I sure hope she picks up her stick and hobbles off before she is subjected to such torture.’ At one point I burst into hysterical laughter.  ‘That’s an unusual reaction’ grinned satanic Adam.  Well actually, considering I was about to punch him in the face and leap off the couch it seemed pretty tame to me.  Finally the hour was up…  I could hardly walk out of the treatment room, and when I did, my red and puffy face was stared at by at least 5 senior citizens in the corridor waiting for the chiropodist. ‘That’ll be £45’ said the efficient receptionist. As I wrote the cheque I was most relieved to learn that Adam’s last name was ‘Hooker’.  I had been muttering something that rhymed quite closely with that for the last hour.  ‘Do you want to book again?’… Well I did, for two week’s time, as I mumbled ‘no gain without pain.’

I am running the New York Marathon 2013 for Macmillan Cancer Support. If you are enjoying reading my blogs please donate at: