Blogic

I must confess to having taken a break from running. This is down partly to a weak constitution and a general malaise brought on by a freak car-rental injury: A left-hand drive induced frozen right shoulder.

This seems a good interlude to expain more clearly why I am doing this; my 'blogic', if you will:

The renowned psychologist, Richard Wiseman, identified some beneficial steps that one might take to succeed in a task or tasks (- a sub 4hr marathon, for example).  These are:

1) Making a step-by-step plan; say a sub 1hr - 10k and half marathon in less than 2hrs.

2) Tell other people about my goals; "Hello!"

3) Think about the good things that will happen if I acheive my goal; - raise more money for Cancer Research; get fitter; have the finely-honed body of an athlete... (Or maybe not).

4) Reward myself/oneself for making progress toward the goal... (Which requires some more sub-goals and rewards).

5) Record my progress in a journal (or blog, "Hello, again!).

So, good psychology is as often simple and intuitive as it is revelatory.

'At last!', you cry. Something rather more educational than scatalogical. But I fear that it will be back to the same old [rubbish] soon... 

Bidet-in-a-bottle

Whilst a morning run is a laudible aim, I was reminded today that a certain minimum level of preparation is required if all is not to end in disaster.

Not fully awake from my reverie, I pulled on my running shorts, shirt, socks and shoes; collected my water from the mini-bar (- all so-far-so-good); and drove ten minutes outside the southern town of Pula to a mile-long, unbroken stretch of road alongside the beaches of Santa Margherita.

The route, from the Flamingo Campsite (- flamingos are present in the lagoons south of Cagliari) to the Spanish Watchtower, splits the beaches on the left from campsites on the right.

Mid-way through the jog I was reminded of one important piece of preparation that I had neglected before my run.  The next few moments were almost sufficient to make Paula Radcliffe blush:

I desperately sought refuge in some bushes alongside the small, tarmaced road.  Thankfully, both the ungodly time and slight rain ensured that no one was around.

Having derided bidets in an earlier blog, you will note that most running shorts contain no pockets for a handy stash of paper. There was no alternative; my drinks bottle was to serve an unfortunate dual purpose.  It is for this reason that I will claim that my jog was curtailed: Re-hydration didn't seem a very attractive prospect for the remainder of the run.

As I made my way back, I passed a dead mouse on the side of the road. I wondered if I was at all responsable for it's demise. My guilt was assuaged by the flocks of goldfinch feeding on beachside thistles, thankfully clearly unaffected by my actions.

Alas. At least the 'experience' has given me a valuable addition (or two) to my pre-morning run checklist: Socks: Check, Shorts: Check, Shirt: Check, Sh... ... ... 

The Prisoner

Something strange has happened of late.  The pain experienced from running/jogging is no longer directy proportional to the distance run. Instead it rises exponentially over a distance of meters instead of miles: I can go from from pain-free to pained and apathetic in a little over four seconds, - an acceleration rate that would be the envy of Fiesta XR2i drivers everywhere.

I am secretly pleased to be without a working pedometer. I know that, despite the heat, the Sardinian scenery should inspire me to acheive distances further and faster.  I am, however, blissfully unaware of the true extent of the shorter and slower chuggs beside quiet beaches.

My latest jogs of (probably only) three or four kilometers were alongside the beaches of Santa Maria Navaresse; a pleasing, but neither-here-nor-there town midway along the Sardinian East Coast.  Although charming, the town seemed to be defined by roads up (to the Gennargentu) and boats out (along the Ogliastra Coast). Perhaps it is only fair, therefore, that-by foot, at least- I never broke it's pleasant confines.

I showered: It was emotional. I used the bidet; intimately.

The pleasure of blogging has been greatly diminished by doing it in miniture and at extortionate expense. - At least 'not running' on holiday leaves me with such a sense of burning guilt that I am finding gym compliance far easier: My 5k time remains a sluggish and sticky 29 mins though.

In an attempt to brand itself as a Spa hotel, the otherwise delightful, Villa Relais del Golfo has a slightly bizarre addition to it's facilities: 'An Emotional Shower'. The lovely assistant informed me, very sweetly, that the Emotional Shower would be good for my 'chervical cord' as it pummels you with water of wildly alternating temperatures as lights flash above your head.

I must confess that I found very little benefit from being briefly frozen, then scalded. The light show too would have carried a health warning if it were to have been broadcast on TV. Maybe it was my inability to direct the streams of water onto my chervical column that prevented it having it's desired effect.

On the subject of mis-directed streams of water, I was alarmed to find a bidet in the hotel bathroom. (Seriously, do British people ever use these for their intended purpose?)... I also had a bottle of lathering 'Intimate cleanser'... Having forgotten the travel wash, at least I now had something with which I could swill my gym kit... In the bidet.

Blog shmog

My silence isn't purely the product of apathy, but a genuinely busy end to a long week at work. Technical issues then confounded me as I set sail for the Sardinian sun (... I actually flew but I liked all of the 'S's' together).

I finally made it to the gym, partially to hide my pastey-white body and sunburnt face, and managed the first 5k in 5 days. Perhaps the excuse of the heat and the expense of blogging on a roaming tariff will keep me quiet for a few days. Probably for the best. :o)

Distance okay

Race; Run; Ran; Runner; Running; Jog; Jogging; Jogged... That should
do it.

I can hardly rail against the injustice of an eroneous association
with P0L!$H dating sites when my blog - essentially intended to be one
about running -contained no mention of the activity.

Indeed, it was with a certain degree of shame that I responded Sian's
facebook message: "How far are you running daily? 'Distance okay'
doesn't really tell me". At this point I had to admit that this wasn't
an objective comment [- 'Ok' -], designed to hide the fact that I was
lazing about, watching Britain's Got Talent, but rather an
uncomfortably honest '0 [-zero! -] k'.

Embarrased and chastised, I made a late gym visit. The trainers, who
were eager to lock up and get home, impatiently watched as I sweated
and waddled my way to a slow 5k on the trailclimber (- a machine that
keeps you perilously close to toppling over and hanging on for fear of
a grim death).

At least confusion is now avoided:

Blogs - 3
Distance - 5k
Best - 5k (46m)

Okay!

Sexy Polish Girls: The Musical?

Having never been one to look a gift horse in mouth (- indeed, I am neither sure of what a gift horse is nor clear about the dangers it's mouth may pose), is was fascinated by the opportunity to 'monetize my blog'.

Essentially, with little effort from me and with a little binary and Boolean wizardry, a series of hi-tech gadgets will place adverts 'relevant to the content of your blog' on your page. Now, I should have heeded the first warning that all may not be well when Jon remarked upon Amazon.com's recommendation of 'Mid-life crisis: The Musical'.  Imagine my horror, however, when - in a moment of curious self-obsession - trialling an iPad demo'd in the Apple store, I saw Google's contribution to my blog: Click here for the sexiest Polish girls on web... What the hell? I've somehow inadvertantly become a cyber-pimp!! ... 

The thing with Adsense is that commission can be earnt from visitors from your blog visiting listed sites. If I were more unscrupulous I might have tacitly encouraged you to do so, but please, for heaven's sake - especially my male friends out there - do not click on these links! 

I can imagine wives and girlfriends seeing 'sexy Polish girls' on your browser history: "You must believe me; I was only checking this out for Mike. He's on commission you know!".  But, if you are single and curious I offer no recommendation for this or 'Sarah Beeny's Dating Site"... Perhaps I'll just stick to 'Mid-life Crisis: The Musical'...