28/11/15 – What NOT to Wear
Like most runners of more than a couple of years standing, Sue and I have accumulated a fair amount to running clobber. Stuff like ‘technical’ race T-shirts (although I’m not sure exactly what makes them technical), lycra ‘jeggings’ (nope, still don’t know what they are although apparently I have a couple of pairs), compression socks, hats, gloves, utility belts, arm pouches, waterproof trail shoes, countless pairs of trainers … the list goes on and on.
All of which I managed perfectly well without when I started running in the cold, cold spring of 2013. Back then my ‘outfit’ consisted of a woolly hat, Carter USM hoodie, Palace shirt, board shorts, football socks and an 20 year old pair of trainers that I used to use for decorating! My times were hardly much different to now (all the gear, still no idea).
These days, despite all the tat we now possess, we always seem to wear the same few items depending on the temperature. In summer, I like to run in as little as decently possible as I tend to overheat. Odd, given my lowly pace. However, when it’s cold, if I don’t start off adequately warm, my muscles never quite seem to get going and my cold extremities become a distraction. My mate Marc, had similar problems when he was training for first Marathon and memorably documented his trials in his own running blog here.
Anyway enough about Marc’s winkle, Sunday was greeted with a stiff westerly breeze that felt rather nippy, so out I trotted in my warmest long-sleeve top which incorporates a windproof front panel. About 2k into the 10, it was clear I’d misjudged the temperature badly… windy it was, chilly it wasn’t. For November it was positively balmy, leaving me steaming like a Turkish bath. Gloves and hat stowed, I began popping open every zip possible and flapping my windproof fronted top up and down in effort to get some cooling air circulating around my mid-riff raising the eyebrows of passers-by.
Other than Sue, I usually never see people I know when I’m out road-running – not today, of course – I passed a different Mark, a Palace fan I used to work and play Sunday footie with, who was out for run himself. He was clearly startled to see me approaching, indeed, I’m pretty sure he’s never seen me running (certainly not on a football pitch!). My beetroot-faced embarassment led to merely exchanging grunts of acknowledgement.
In an effort to avoid further embarrassment, I took a quick detour to bypass Rob’s house, only to run into the Mum and Dad of my best childhood friend and I’d not seen them for 30–odd years! Puffing and blowing like Ivor the Engine, this time at least, I managed to exchange some pleasantries.
Having over-loosened my clothing, the headphones that I had carefully pinned to my top, now wouldn’t stay in my ears and the cord began to tighten at my neck in distracting and alarming fashion. By the end of the run, I was mentally all over the shop and my time was back up by one and half minutes (1:07:51). Surprised I wasn’t, annoyed I was.
On Tuesday, the equipment disaster continued. I decided to run the ‘Home parkrun’ course with Sue for my easy run on Tuesday – no dog incidents this week. We ran together for the first 4K and I put the hammer down after the second lap of the hill ending up a shade under 37 minutes. However, my Garmin watch let me down so I missed out on the Vitality points. Bah!
Thursday was unusual, with Jim not about, the post-swim run was out and I had to devise a 5K route on the hoof having dropped a car off in West Wickham. I thought the 31:55 time was quite reasonable given the virgin route.
Saturday was back to muddy Lloyd for parkrun and more clothing mis-steps, but at least here you can shed clothes halfway around though and I had layered up, so wasn’t going to offend the other runners by removing my outer garment.
Despite a brief pause for divestment, I managed to knock 8 seconds of last week’s time, just ducking under the 33 minute mark, this time. Happy with that, although after a couple of weeks of pain-free running, my hamstrings are beginning to feel ominously tight after schlepping through the mud.