F***ing F*** it's COLD!

Holy cow. (That's the nice introduction.) You know, how they say, when you are about to experience/are experiencing hypothermia? And how, when you are wet and you are cold you can accelerate the process?

I attempted that today.

So it's Tuesday, which means I run to work and from work. I do this Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and take Friday off. (A girl has got to pub - though it's one drink because I run on Saturday and Sunday.) I made the mistake of stuffing my clothes back into my backpack instead of sticking them in the drawer to sort of 'dry up.' So, when I got dressed to run back, they were damp.

It's raining today. Sometimes, it sleeted, but for the sake of my running it just rained. It did the wind thing too which made me feel (but not look) like I had Angelina Jolie lips. So by the time I got home to walk the Finley-dog I was warm but damp.

I quickly, on the puppy walk, became cold and damp.

Just for giggles, I became even colder when deciding that I wouldn't bother changing before running to the shop quickly for milk.

Which meant, by the time I was home and running the bath my fingers COULDN'T FEEL THE HOT WATER.

I would like to point out (other than my blatant sponsorship plug) that Rome will be toasty warm when I run. This whole freezing fingers bit will not exist. In fact, I'm training by most standards in a totally wrong climate. But, as of right now I'm currently not of the wealthy sort and thus I must train in this climate - and holy cow, f***! It's F***ING COLD!

And yet I run. My, I am weird.

Goal #1 = 6 miles in one go = DONE.

This is the easy part.

Man, how incredibly wacky nuts is it for me to type that?

This is the easy part.

When I first started running, 6+ years ago, I couldn't make it around a block without wanting to die. The security guard at my complex used to watch me as I slapped the side of the gate to count my turns. Sometimes I would get a thumbs up.

I remember coming back from 3 miles and my shins feeling like they were going to explode. Mornings of getting up and not being able to walk to the bathroom without the feeling that I just may not make it.

There was a picture, one I should've purchased, from my first 20K. I was part of a knot of injured and run/walkers - there were ... maybe... 5 of us total. The toned and tough group had passed us and I was there in my red running gear (still my favorite) in the heat of Houston sick and tired and scared out of my wits. When I saw the finish I worked my legs up a little and tried to be positive. Around me they were taking down the timing signs and picking up the cones. Just then I saw a photographer and tried, in vain, to smile and give a double thumbs up. What came back was a pained expression, nearly beat red with exhaustion, and thumbs pointing halfway down, as if at any moment I would drop.

I didn't, though. Somehow, I have managed to get better at it.

So much so I can write that 6 miles for running is, in fact, the easy part. So much so I can write that all the way up the half marathon point is, in fact, easy-peas-y (as they would say here). But I know that there is the darkness up ahead. The 17 miles, the 20 miles - who knows?

I guess I won't know until I do it.

Oh yes, and while you're here - Sponsor me.

Two things:

1. I got 15 miles completed this week. Yay.

2. I didn't know that Christmas Eve = Male Liberation to Pubs. As I was jogging up Queens Street at 5:00 PM a drunken man vomited right onto the bike racks while about 10 of his buddies cheered on. Turning to go to George Street I had to dodge incredibly happy groups of testosterone as they crammed the last bits of bitter down their throats.

Almost made me feel slightly jealous to be estrogen-based. Almost.

Happy Christmas, everyone. Traditions (some more interesting than others) abound but the one constant is love. If only for today, forgive your enemies and pardon those who have caused you grief. Life is short, live it fully.

The Training Plan

So, I added three miles to my run today. This means, should the world not turn into ice tomorrow, I will have 15 miles for my regular week.

Plus I have 6-mile run to do on Sunday in order to follow THE ALMIGHTY TRAINING PLAN.

For those who have never decided that running long laborious distances is a fun thing to do, a training plan is a sheet of weekly activities which culminate in a series of milestones in order to reach an optimum race goal.

My race goal? Finish. (Preferably within the time limit to get a medal.)

Based on my reading of the 6.7 million race plans (amended) that exist on planet Earth, in order to run a 4:30 marathon (total time) I must put in 30 miles of running per week.

And, based on the Marathon for People Who Have No Time to Train for a Marathon Plan (this exists) I need to run 5 days a week plus hit 'race' goals - aka go 6, 13.1, and 20 miles in one fun fashion.

So, I will need to commute to work, by foot, all 5 days + hit race targets.

I also have less than 90 days to do this in.

It's a lot to take in, mentally. But, I figure, it's Rome. It's going to be like power touristing.

Did I mention I need sponsoring?

Reason #1 to Sponsor Me.

Ahem.

I didn't sleep well last night. I dreamt of weights attached to my ankles as I stood under the Colosseum with people running past. I had visions of being late, overwhelmed. My mind was processing that - yes, Cristin - you have signed up to run 26.2 miles.

WHY ON EARTH DID YOU DECIDE TO REGISTER TO RUN 26.2 MILES?

The challenge.

Gawd, that's such an actor answer. "Why did you do the project, famous person?"

Oh, the challenge.

Wow, that's deep.

But then there is Mikey. There's a reason. National Autistic Society. When Mikey was diagnosed as autistic it seemed like the world was all strange. Here was my youngest brother who by all standards normal claimed abnormal. He didn't look it, and for a long time he just seemed a bit slow. But as time progressed so came the fixations and speech issues and desire to do as he felt regardless of society.

And from that grew the variations, or the "spectrum." The sudden understanding that autism isn't just one thing. After awhile, you sort of envy cancer. Cancer can kill you, and there is a series of treatments which almost everyone can comprehend. Sometimes you live, sometimes you die. It all depends on type and severity. But with autism, well, there is such a broad level. They don't know what causes it for sure. They don't know if there is a cure. But what they do know is that these people, and all their levels, need patience, understanding, and support.

So NAS exists for that reason. And not just for Mikey. It exists for family like me. So I can explain the condition to others and hope people not only understand but appreciate it.

*Cough*

Eating shortbread, signing up for marathons...

So, I did it.

I'm running this: Rome Marathon 2010.

I'm doing it for this: NAS.

Which makes me this: crazy.

I have 90 days from today to get ready. I've never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever run a marathon before. Ever.

Ever, ever.

But, I've committed. I'm doing this.

Oh.

Ma.

Gawd.

Open letter to Mother Nature.

Dear Ms. Nature, (I'm in England and I don't know if you are married so you are a Ms. here.)

Oxford is a city located in a valley.
Because of this, we generally don't get severe weather.
Sure, it can be cloudy.
It can drizzle a bit of rain.
But, for the most part, we are spared downpours.
This means that while lots of England is getting snow we get a bit of fluff.
I want snow.
If I'm this far north I should get it.
Even if it's just enough to roll a snow ball and go, "Yay, everything is white!"
So, if you're not busy or anything.
Or, at least, if you could please put off some horrible storm somewhere.
I would like snow.
Please.

Your friend who is freezing but getting no known benefit.

Cristin