Road block

If you are a friend of mine on Facebook or follow my Twitter then you will have seen an extraordinarily downbeat status update yesterday afternoon (even by my standards). It went like this:

Miserable walk. Rain, a bit of hail, hip pain for hours, and I saw a dead coot floating in the canal. Totally morale shattering.

It was honestly the most horrendous walk of my life, but I was so determined to finish it I just kept going. Even when I was starting to swear under my breath, even when the rain started beating down heavily on me, even when I was not certain my legs would keep me upright. I was going to finish those stupid 23.5 miles because I knew that if I didn't, I might as well give up this whole escapade.

So I finished it.

When I got home, my hips hurt like hell. About an hour after walking through the front door, I was certain that I would never get off the sofa again. All through the night, I was waking to shift from hip to hip. And when I got up this morning it felt as though my legs had been replaced by a pair of very wobbly stilts, painfully strapped directly into my hip joints. But it wasn't the hip that was troubling me. It was my left knee - sore and stiff and almost impossible to straighten.

My boss very kindly let me work from home today - I spent it with my leg in the air and an ice pack strapped to the back of my knee. It feels a good bit better now, easing with a little bit of wandering about the house and a couple of stretches in the front room. But I've still booked myself in to see a physiotherapist in a couple of weeks, just to see if there's something I could be doing better. In the meantime, I'll keep going. I'll note how my body feels and find a way to get through.

Last night I was ready to give up. Tonight, I'm ready to beat this challenge.

Thanks and pictures and disappointment giving way to triumph.

Before I get on with the rest of the post, I just wanted to say thanks to everyone who has volunteered to help me with my walk in May. I'm really truly touched that you'd like to spend a bit of time with me walking the outskirts of London. I'll be in touch in the next week or so and we can start working out where everyone fits together.

Also, those who've made donations to my chosen charity - thank you too! You're making this all worthwhile!

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Since I last posted, I've been out training a few times including a full day session last Sunday which saw me get lost, go on a 2 mile detour and have to cut it short by 4 miles. More on that later.

First though, I'd like to show you a photo which makes me giggle every time I see it.

I took this quick snap of a poster on Old Kent Road when I was out a couple of weeks back. You might need to enlarge it to see what I find so amusing. It reminds me of Kemp Folds.

Anyway, I see a lot of things that amuse me when I'm walking but rarely feel that I can stop to take a picture. Here's another one I saw, out and about on Sunday, somewhere near Petersham Nurseries in Richmond.

I saw that one just a few miles before I took a right turn off the Capital Ring path, got lost and had to phone my husband for directions. Getting into a right state, I managed to eventually get back on the right track, but had wandered for an extra 2 miles and was by this point pretty much soaked to the skin by the fine drizzle that had suddenly turned to rain.

After setting out with the aim of walking the near 22 miles of Capital Ring routes six to nine combined, I gave up at the end of route eight and went home. Pissed off. Cold. Miserable.

Thankfully I've got a lovely bunch of friends who, when they noticed my whiny Twitter/Facebook status update, essentially told me off for thinking that 'only 18 miles' was not good enough. That's me in my place then. I promise I won't do it again. For a bit.

Anyway, undeterred I'll be off out again this weekend to get that 22-miler under my belt. Onwards and upwards.

Here comes that guilt again.

I'm still not training and I'm feeling more guilty by the day. I've even started avoiding writing in here because it makes me feel worse.

A string of events have hampered my training. First it was the toe. Then it was a horrendous cold (which I'm still struggling to get over). Now horrendous wisdom teeth and a headache. And being busy. Don't forget being busy.

Writing it down seems like listing a string of excuses and, who knows, maybe I am.

In a bid to kick myself back into activity, I went to the gym on Monday morning. I have a happy relationship with my gym but I hadn't been there since before this challenge started and the walking took over. It felt good to be doing something different even though I know it can't be a replacement for long-distance walking.

This weekend I'm aiming to drop myself back into proper walking with an easy 8-miler. Then from Monday it's back on to the proper training. Perhaps a little lighter than I was doing while I find my feet, but definitely back on.

Wish me luck.

Frustration strikes.

More photos are in my Flickr set from the day
Sunday was a lovely sunny day, so David and I decided to venture all the way out to Greenford to take on the next section of the Capital Ring: Walk 9, Greenford to South Kenton. We left without maps as my printer was playing up but had faith in the signage that we've seen so far, confident that we wouldn't lose our way.

We did lose our way a bit, thanks to some confusing signs on the way into Harrow-on-the-Hill, and it wasn't the most exciting walk, but that wasn't what was troubling me.

What was troubling me was the ache in my foot, and the general decline in my fitness in the few short weeks that I've been off the proper training regime. As I reach an important milestone (more about that on Friday) I'm suddenly conscious that I have to start pulling out the stops.

So it looks like I'm going back to the gym, and I'm going back on the road, and I'm going to beat this. There is no way that I am failing.

Off track.

Training was derailed this weekend when I ate something dodgy at a barbecue (yes, my own barbecue. It was my own fault.) which knocked me off my feet and housebound for three days. Three days!

During those three days, I was meant to walk 16.5 miles. Given that I was triumphant when I managed to shuffle to Sainsbury's on day three, 16.5 miles was not exactly an option.

So the training plan was stalled until this morning.

Now I've never really followed a training plan before, so I'm struggling with what to do when you've set a target and are steadily walking towards it and then 'WHOOMPH!' suddenly you've fallen over. Do you change your target date? Do you plough on through? Do you just sit on the sofa and lament that little piece of barbecued chicken you ate?

Cautiously, I'm going to attempt the ploughing on through option by slightly modifying my training plan and attempting to avoid all illness and injury until the weekend of the 16/17th of October when I'm aiming to walk my very first marathon. After that painful 20-miler I'm a bit nervous.

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For those who are interested, I have been using about.com's 19 week marathon plan. It's been quite useful so far, but now that I'm getting dangerously close to target I'm going to have to start thinking what the training looks like after I've hit the magic 26.2 mile mark...

20 mile verdict.

First up I would just like to say that although I logically know that 20 miles is an awfully long way to walk, the comparative ease with which I completed the 18 miler back in July may have meant that I set off with a slightly cocky bounce in my step yesterday.

Like before I chose to use walkit.com to plan my route for me. A big circular route through and around London stretched out in front of me as I left the house just before 8.30 yesterday morning.

Leaving Lewisham, I walked familiar roads up to Southwark Park, then along the Thames' South Bank before crossing the Millenium Bridge to St Paul's, then... Well, then I got a bit lost. My walkit route tried to take me through a locked gate and I became rather flustered as I tried to find a replacement route. Even though I know the area well, it threw me. I got back on track eventually, walking through the edge of Angel before heading onto Regent's Canal.

Regent's Canal is fast becoming my nemesis. A mile or so along the towpath and I started to hurt. Unlike last time it was my left hip rather than my knees and, also unlike last time, it was a sharp stabbing pain rather than a dull ache. My bouncing stride soon slowed to a hobble as I limped along the canal. I was certain that I would have to stop. I made plans on how to get myself home. And then, right when I was at my lowest, I looked up and saw this:



The sight of the towers of Canary Wharf glistening in the distance almost brought that bounce back into my step. I felt a boost from knowing that I was on the home straight, albeit one that was going to last for at least another 6 miles.

At that point I decided that I must carry on. I knew that I had to beat this pain.

And I did. I arrived back home 20 miles and 6 hours 2 minutes after setting off. My hip was so painful that I could barely walk through the door, and had to crawl up the stairs to the cold bath that was waiting for me.

Today, I'm still uncomfortable. Should I have carried on with an injury? Possibly not. Am I proud to have beaten the 20 miler? Definitely. Am I ready for another week of training? Ask me when I come back from my 4 mile walk tomorrow.

Walking is attempting to take over my life.

Today I had to do one of the hardest things I've had to do in this journey so far. I had to hand back my allotment plot to the council.

I've known that this was coming for a long time, but still found myself staring at the screen, unable to click send on the email to the allotments officer for a good few minutes. But the truth is that although the walking is the reason for giving up the plot at this time, we had found it hard to get back into working the land after the break for our wedding and honeymoon at the end of last year.

Although I feel sad that I'm having to give up things that I love (I've already had to postpone a course I wanted to go on) it almost gives me an extra kick to know that there's not much in the way to stop me now. I have less excuses, less guilt, and that can only be a good thing.

Besides, I've asked to be put back on the waiting list for another plot sometime in the future. In the meantime I'll have to make do with veg pots in my garden.

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This week sees me taking on one 4 mile, two 8 mile, and one 20 mile training block. I am apprehensive, but undoubtedly excited.

It's been one of those weeks...

This week I've learned just how much you use your arms in walking and how a seemingly unrelated injury can set you back when it comes to training.

At the beginning of last week I had a bit of an achy wrist from too much gardening. By the end of the week I had been told that I'd damaged the tendons in my arm and should avoid using it for two to three weeks or risk serious damage.

Not using your primary arm for any length of time is a pretty big task, I think, but I've been trying really hard to limit my movement. Yes, this is all being typed left handed. It's tricky, but I didn't think it would be more trouble than that.

So setting off on my 12 mile walk on Sunday I was resolute that I'd finish it in stonkingly good time, full of energy and triumphant.

It didn't quite go like that of course. Shortly after setting off I noticed that it was hard to keep my arm from swinging along by my side as I took each step. Then I needed to adjust my rucksack which, of course, I couldn't do without using my right hand. Then as the walk continued my hands began to swell. This always happens in heat, but this time I couldn't really do the flexing exercises I usually do to get rid of it and this time I noticed that my wrist had begun to swell as well. It was pretty hard to ignore.

Towards the end of the walk my concentration went for a wander and so did I, getting hopelessly confused and having to retrace my steps. I finally finished tired and late.

The wrist distracted me and it slowed me down. But I'm warning it, that better be the last time it does.