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Monday, 10 February 2025

Weymouth Middle Distance Triathlon: Piss Poor Planning

Weymouth. A picturesque coastal town known for its sandy beaches, historic charm, and if you're me - mild dehydration, questionable race prep, and the ever-present threat of being taken out by some bellend, his tennis ball and his questionable hand-eye coordination.



The Recce: Rhododendrons, Winos, and an Alarming Lack of Hydration

Like any responsible triathlete, I recced the course beforehand. The bike route was beautiful. A fairytale dream: narrow lanes flanked by towering pink rhododendrons, National Trust signs hinting at picturesque parks and the ever-so-charming feature of four cattle grids. If you've never cycled over a cattle grid at speed, let me tell you it's a delightful mix of bone-rattling terror and regret.

My run route recce was unshaded and warm and involved laps of Lodmoor Country Park. On the recce, I passed two locals debating whether it was too early for a drink. Their conclusion? They weren't sure what time it was. Or what century they were in. For the record, it was 10:30 am. Apparently that was drinking time. 

Feeling smug at having recce'd the route and having prepped so well, I contemplated the sea swim course from a prone position in the sun on the beach. It was the perfect moment of seaside serenity as I lay back enjoying the sun and the gentle breeze. It was all so lovely. Until some bellend tried to play sand tennis approximately six feet away. His mother joined in. Neither of them possessed any discernible hand-eye coordination. I was hit once and almost hit six times. I discovered that it's very difficult to relax when you're dodging flying projectiles from Team Clueless. I retreated to the safety of the ice cream stand. Fuelling. 





Pre-Race Logistics: A Masterclass in Poor Planning

Two days in, I rechecked my accommodation booking to see whether breakfast was included and discovered that I had been staying in the wrong room. Apparently, Key Safe 3 was meant for Room 6. Oops. The downside of booking online and not having to meet the host I guess. And concerningly, the key had opened the door no issues. Oh well. I was in now so I guess this would be my room for the week. I'd better make sure I wedged the door closed in case of any unexpected check-ins!

This wasn't the only 'oops'. There was also the energy gel disaster. Having realised I only had two gels left in my stash, I made an emergency Boots The Chemist run. Feeling smug, I returned with my haul only to discover I had, in fact, bought hydration powder, not gels. Misleading packaging at its finest. With my race nutrition now reduced to a mix of pick 'n' mix sweets, we were truly in uncharted territory.

To top it off, I also realised there were no feed stations on the bike course and that I'd only brought one bottle. In 21°c heat. At least I was making all my rookie errors in the 70.3 rather than the full Ironman. Small mercies.


Race Morning: Please Don't Be a Nob and Don't Die

Up at 5:00 AM, out by 5:30, and a five-minute cycle along the promenade to the start. Perfection. The sea was millpond calm (unlike last year's washing machine simulation), and the pre-race briefing was refreshingly straightforward: Don't be a nob, don't die. Got it.

I also only just realised that the bike course was two laps after several reviews of the race briefing. Thank God for my new friend Suzanne mentioning it. Imagine the sheer embarrassment of rolling into transition one lap early, wondering why everyone was still out there.


Swim: The Battle of the Orange Hats

Positioned mid-pack, I hopped over the pebbles and into the water. The swim course was a funnel of yellow buoys, six equally orange buoys, and a field of athletes in orange swim caps. Ideal for sighting.




Despite this visual chaos, I found myself overtaking people. A truly unfamiliar sensation. There was no real opportunity to draft as everyone was pretty spread out.  A chap kept catching me up and then doing breaststroke to sight and gave me a right wallop in the head. Thanks, bud.

Exit strategy? Sight on the boat that looked like a teapot, then the theatre, then the random white house reflecting in the sun. Surprisingly effective sighting today!.




Simon, who I hadn't expected to turn up, was there cheering. Lovely surprise. Found my trainers under the last beach hut, laced them up, and embarked on the 7-minute run of hell back to transition. Shoe came undone. Classic Booker error.


Bike: The Cattle Grid Grand Prix

Wetsuit off (eventually after it clung like a limpet to one ankle which involved a dance to remove it), bike gear on, and out. 




First challenge? Surviving on 750ml of fluids. Second challenge? Not dying on the cattle grids.

The course was shaped like a balloon on a string - a six-mile out-and-back, followed by two loops of 22 miles. Within the first few miles: Osmington Hill, a pleasant little 5% gradient wake-up call a couple of kilometres long. The route itself was a mix of roads, tiny country lanes, dual carriageways and was quite a lumpy, choppy route.

There was a section near Bovington which was lined with rhododendrons, their unearthly pink purple startling in the shadows from the taller trees. It felt quite magical and almost faerie-like as if a mystical being might pop out and offer me an extra water bottle. (Alas, none did.)

Halfway through the bike, a marshal shouted, “You're 2nd woman!” I almost believed them until I remembered that halfway through the bike is always where dreams die.

Then came the tractor debacle. A single-track lane. A giant tractor that stopped every time it hit a tree branch. Me stuck behind it at about 10 miles an hour and no space to overtake. Finally, it turned off. Then a second, ancient red tractor that pulled out in front of me and then stopped, needing to turn right on an A-road, meaning I had to unclip and restart on a hill. Wow. It was all going so well. Sigh.

Bloody tractors.





Run: The Human Dehydration Experiment

Back into transition, off the bike, and into the run … and finally a drink station! Except it was on the opposite side of the run route and I wasn't allowed to cross the route for a drink. I had to run a full loop first to get to it. I could have CRIED. I felt like a raisin. Shrivelled up and dry. If I saw a small child with an ice lolly, I would quite HAPPILY have mugged them for it. I would have laughed as I swallowed it. NO REGRETS.

It was stupidly hot. Sunglasses and visor? Had been a good decision. Only one bottle on the bike? Very bad decision.




The course was two long laps, followed by two short laps, collecting a wristband at the end of each. The section along the Lodmoor cycle path felt endless, unshaded, and soul-destroying. Aid stations were my only salvation. Three cups of cola, two of energy drink and still thirsty.

By mile six, my carefully planned nutrition strategy had collapsed into desperation-fuelled pick n mix consumption. I had two energy gels, but given my shortage (thank you, Boots packaging), I was rationing them like a 19th-century explorer.

Legs were grumpy. Stomach was screaming at the sheer amount of sugar and energy drinks. Despite this, the laps ticked down, mostly because my brain had ceased to function beyond 'just keep running'.




L ran with me for a short stretch, which was lovely, though she always saw me post-aid station section, when I was walking and aggressively chugging drinks. Timing. I must have looked like the grumpiest hiker ever. 

Final lap. No sprint finish. Just utter relief to be done.

Final result? 5th female overall, 2nd in AG. Somehow.





What I'd Do Differently Next Time
* More bottles on the bike. Because being thirsty for 56 miles is not fun.
* Actual energy gels. Instead of trying to fuel a triathlon with Haribo.
* Practice getting my wetsuit off faster. Current technique resembles rubber eel wrestling.
* Make sure run shoes are done up properly. It would have taken me 10 seconds to double-knot it.
* Adjust my trisuit to avoid neck chafing. Because fashionable red raw necklines are not my thing.

Despite everything; the sand tennis attacks, the surprise two-lap bike course, the tractor delays, and the war on hydration, Weymouth Middle Distance was a success.

Would I do it again?

Ask me when I've fully rehydrated.




Thursday, 23 January 2025

Ride London 2024: My Epic Ride Through Rain, Sausage Rolls, and a Dirt Tan

Ah, endurance events—the perfect blend of grit, determination, and the occasional existential crisis. This weekend’s adventure was a masterclass in how not to prepare for a long ride, complete with catastrophic weather, tech failures, and the comforting embrace of a Greggs sausage roll. Buckle up, folks; it was a journey.




You know when you're regretting all your life choices? It was 0400hrs and I was sat in a car on the M1 watching the windscreen wipers whip past on full speed while flood water splashed up the windows. 

And I was on the way to cycle 100 miles.

It'll be fine. FINE. 




I mean why wake up at 0300hrs to drive to an airport and fly somewhere warm on holiday when you could wake up at 0300hrs and drive to London and cycle in the pouring rain for 5 or 6 hours.

It'll be FINE.

I realised when I got to the start that my Garmin was almost as dead as my enthusiasm to cycle 100 miles in floods and a headwind. 10% battery. Yeah, that'll be ok for 100 miles and 6 hours of cycling, right? 

It'll be FINE.

I'd also brought my water bottles empty as I didn't want them to leak in the car. It's a cycling event – there's be somewhere to fill them up before the start. There wasn't.

It'll be FINE.

Besides, it was tipping down with rain. I could always lick my own face. Or that of someone I was passing. I'd say hello first. Didn't want to make it weird. 




Ride London 100 was was a rolling start and we didn't have a wait this year … we just kept rolling over the start line. Nice. 

Rich’s Di2 battery warning came on. This battery controls the order of the gears on his bike. If the battery failed, he wouldn't be able to change gears. 

It'll be FINE. For me. It'll be fine for me. 



We got going. We'll deal with the problems when they become major problems. If the gears are working now, then we'll go with that. I had a coffee on the way so not particularly thirsty and there'll be an aid station at 25 miles. And the Garmin … well I can always update the data after the ride. It's not as if I don't know the distance of this ride. 

We'll worry when shit starts getting urgent. 

But it was all going SO WELL. **cough** I had to laugh. I might be crying too but you couldn't tell under all this rain. 
   
Got to Epping at mile 25 which was the first aid station. I hopped off the bike and filled up my water bottle. It was probably lucky that I hadn't had anything to drink yet as there were no toilets at this aid station. Apparently the toilet lorry had broken down on the M25 … At least all the motorists stuck behind it would have something to go on.

The plan for this aid station had been:
1. Fill up water bottles – done.
2. Have a wee – no loos = no wee.
3. Have a nice M&S sandwich – also foiled. 

We'd stopped at Marks & Spencer last year and bought a wrap which had been the perfect breakfast. However, our start time had been earlier this year so M&S was still closed. Gutted.



 
However shining like a blue beacon of hope was Greggs. So we went for the beige food. 
I had a steak bake. Despite the fact it probably never been an actual cow, it was delicious. Pastry for the pedals. Had a nice chat with a couple of lads in the queue who also reckoned that Greggs would be the PERFECT fuel. 

Sold. I'm sold. 

Who needs toilets and a posh wrap when you can have floods and beige food. There’s nothing quite like a sausage roll and a group ride through floods to bond with strangers. And yes, that pastry was exactly what I needed.




We left the aid station and cycled on a bit further and spotted a long queue of people ain cycling kit. Apparently a couple of portaloos had made it as far as the park up the road. We hopped off the bikes and joined the long queue snaking across the wet grass. Despite it being a bit of a disaster, everyone was really happy and friendly. I was also happy and friendly having scoffed some beige food and having finally found a loo. Life was good.




My Garmin beeped to tell me it had 5% battery. Shurrup Garmin. 

Bladder satisfied, we climbed back onto the bikes and joined a group of cyclists and took turns at the front into the wind. It was nice. Got to have a chat, a bit of a break from the wind and get an easy ride. A few of these cyclists had just come back from Spain and had enjoyed the sunshine. Seemed a different world away from damp old England.

The 50 mile aid station came around quickly. We were halfway through already. The beige food had been such a win at mile 25 it seemed silly not to try the same again so I had a sausage roll and cup of coffee from the van. The grass was soaking wet still so I sat on a tree stump to consume my feast. Typical for the day, this aid station had no High5 tablets. Maybe the tablet lorry was stuck behind the toilet lorry.



Hopped in with another group who were really pushing the speed and had a couple of really quick riders. I nearly dropped off the back a couple of times but took my turn at the front into the headwind … ouch! I wasn't much good … no-one gets much benefit from the little one being at the front!




We rode along with them for a few miles and then slowed the pace down at the top of a hill. This was meant to be a zone 2 ride for me and Rich, in preparation for Ironman Kalmar and it was turning into a bit of a mad tempo ride. It was fun, but it wouldn't do the training any good if it took a week to recover from.

Oh, and shoutout to the lady with the “Baby on Board” badge on her backside. Absolute legend!




With a final beeeeep of protest, my Garmin died at mile 58. That's pretty decent for 10% battery!



Rich, however, hit the wall around mile 70. His legs staged a mutiny, and honestly, I couldn’t blame them. Between the headwind and the fact that marshals ranged from “cheerleader extraordinaire” to “actively napping,” morale was hanging by a thread.

Somewhere around the 75 mile mark at Ongar—seriously, does that not sound like a character from Willow?—the weather decided to give us a laugh. A two-minute rainstorm arrived just long enough to drench us again, only for the sun to pop out like nothing had happened. Thanks, weather gods.




By the time we rolled back, I was sporting a dirt tan so spectacular it could’ve been featured in Cycling Weekly: Endurance Edition. My legs were toast, my Garmin was toast, and Rich was questioning all his life choices. But hey, at least we met some nice people, ate some iconic Greggs, and had a proper story to tell.

Ride time: 5 hours 15, distance 103 miles.




Lessons Learned:
  • Charge your Garmin. You pillock.
  • Don’t trust 10% battery to last 100 miles.
  • Always carry High5 tablets because aid stations are unreliable. Also try and carry a portaloo if you can. 
  • Rain and sausage rolls make for a surprisingly solid combination.



Would I do it again? Probably. But next time, I’m bringing a backup Garmin and my own snacks.


Thursday, 16 January 2025

Pacing Coventry Half Marathon: Spitting at Dogs, Sweeties & Fake Mark

Our local running shop, Coventry Runner put a shout out for pacers for the Coventry Half Marathon. Sounds fun. Sounds simple. What could go wrong?



I was to be a back marker which meant I'd be coming in at around 3 hours 30 minutes. Awesome. A nice run, a bit of sightseeing around Coventry and some volunteering. Sounded a grand morning out.  

I bought LOADS of packs of sweeties and had absolutely stuffed my running pack full so if anyone was struggling then I could feed them sugar. I checked the route, packed waterproofs and was feeling prepared. Do the pacing, tea and medals (and ideally cake) and then the train to Birmingham to go to work. 



It was all so simple. Then I realised that trains didn't run early enough to get me to the start.

Bother. 

All the best thrown-together plans and all that …

Wangled a lift to Coventry with the long-suffering husband and jumped out - straight into a puddle - into the pouring rain to look for the start of the event. It really was awful weather.  


Managed to get into the registration building early as I was volunteering and snaffled a spot in the warm and a bright green race t-shirt with 'PACER' written on it. Uh-oh! Official now. 



I declined a pacer flag though. It just seemed like an accident waiting to happen. 

I could see myself
a) Forgetting I was wearing it, try and go to toilet with it on and end up kebabbed on the cistern like some kind of toilet chain toy. 
b) Bending over to tie a shoelace and accidentally spear someone like I was competing in a medieval knight jousting tournament.
c) Forgetting to take it off, heading to the train station, get electrocuted on the overhead lines and die a grisly and melty death.

Nope. Must remain like professional pacer and avoid accidental stabbings, joustings or electrical incidents.



I met Lisa, Vicky and Laura. They were also pacing the back of the pack. They looked professional and as though they knew what they were doing. They had flags. I had sweeties.

I was given a radio. This seemed like a terrible idea. 



We headed outside. It was raining harder. Large puddles had formed on the roads, deep enough to drown a short person in. I was glad I'd worn my trainers with the big soles. 

There were a lot of members of my running club running today and I jumped into the group photo, although my kit didn't match. I was tempted to smile with my mouth closed so I didn't inadvertently drown in the rain. 



It was time for the off! Vicky and I would back mark the event and stay behind the last runners and Lisa and Laura would take the 3:30 pacing and stay on target for the 3 hours 30 runners.

The horn went, the runners all got excited and we were over the line! Everyone was running including the people at the back so we got a bit of a trot on. As everyone was in front of the 3 hour 30 time at the moment, Vicky, Lisa and Laura and all could all run together and have a chat as we went which was lovely. I love, love love hearing about other people's running journeys and adventures … proper motivation!



Lisa and Laura had to keep an eye on the pace they were going as they were marking a specific time, whereas Laura and I just needed to stay behind the last runner so the organisers would know when the roads were clear and they could re-open. 

We had ONE job. Stay behind the last runner.

Gradually Lisa and Laura moved in front of us and receded into the distance. Vicky and I had one runner between us and she was mainly run-walking. She had certainly dressed for the weather and had a hiking pack and waterproof trousers on. Definitely had planned for the damp conditions.  

I wish I'd brought waterproof trousers. At the rate the rain was coming down I'd need a canoe as well. 


Stay behind the last runner. ONE job.

We lost the woman. She didn't seem to understand the idea of a closed road event and  kept taking shortcuts between buildings and hedges and in one totally confusing moment, she went the wrong way around the roundabout (which had been closed for the half marathon) and went across open roads using the pedestrian crossing buttons. 

We were confused. But it was HER event. If she wanted to go odd ways, that's fine. 

Or it was until we couldn't see her any more. Crap. Vicky and I had been catching up about all the cool events we fancied doing and were chatting as we were walking and had taken our eyes off the woman. 

And she'd vanished. 

Oh hang on. There she is behind a hedge. 

Like behind an actual hedge. 

There was more to this back marking than I'd expected. Certainly more hide'n'seek than I'd expected. 

Vicky and I vowed to keep her in sight. And again. Got chatting. And she vanished. Again. 

We stood still and then turned in complete circles. Couldn't see any hedges she might be hiding behind. Ah man. We'd messed up. 

I ran up the road to halt the event car behind us and confess that we'd lost the runner. 

Then Vicky called out. She'd spotted our missing runner coming out of a corner shop. It didn't really seem the time for a spot of shopping but who are we to judge when you might need to grab a pint of milk or a tin of beans. 

Our lost runner was now sitting at a bus stop outside the shop with her race number on. I thought I'd better have a quick chat and check she was ok. She said she just lived down the road and was getting a bus home. Um ok. Totally cool with us. Had she decided she was done with the half marathon? Yes. Apparently so. 

Fair enough. Left her to catch her bus. 

Vicky and I got to have a bit of a run now as we hurried on to catch up with the next last runner. It was pretty cold in the rain so it was nice to get a bit of a trot to warm up. I'd definitely underestimated how cold it was and although I was wearing waterproofs, the rain was so constant it was creeping inside collars and up sleeves.



However, the support on the course was incredible. Everyone had nice things to say as we passed. We were right at the back, but there were plenty of people still out supporting, even in the awful weather and lots of proud Coventrians waving Sky Blue flags, supporting their friends and fellow city dwellers out pounding the roads. It was lovely and made me feel very proud to be part of this event. 

Vicky and I decided to catch up to the 3:30 pacers as there were no longer any runners between them and us. And I had an entire backpack stuffed full of pick'n'mix and Vicky and I certainly couldn't eat it all on our own. 




If I couldn't give the sweeties to the runners, I was going to feed up the pacers!

There was a bit of an incident as we got to the Holyhead road junction. The marshals were letting the cars through when there were gaps in the runners, but it wasn't quickly enough for some people. Despite all the forward notice and signs warning of the half marathon, some people want to do ALL the things NOW. There was a but of horn honking and cars trying to get onto the course, but it looked like it was all in hand by the time we got there. 
 
We caught up with the 3 hour 30 pacers heading into the village of Allesley. It's such a pretty part of Coventry, with picturesque houses and villages. It's the epitome of a picture you'd find on a chocolate box. But with puddles today. Water features if you like. 



Our last runner now was a diminutive gentleman in his 50s with the name 'Mark' on his race number. We said hello and then stayed behind him so he could run his own race without feeling any pressure. I was impressed that he'd laminated his running number which was affixed to his jacket. No rain was going to melt this number!
 
Lisa and Laura had to keep to 3:30 pace so they gradually pulled away and we stayed behind Mark who was doing a walk-run strategy to complete his race. 

Mark was quite chatty and told us he’d trained for 2 weeks for this including a 2 hour run and a walk last week and he wasn’t going to drink anything as he had sipped water last night and had had some more water this morning. Everyone's training looks different and you have to do what fits into your own life. But I wasn't sure it was a strategy I'd personally follow.

I offered him some of the packs of sweeties I was carrying but he said he didn’t need them as he had a vitamin B12 spray that he was going to spray on. 

Alrighty then.

Mark was a few hours into his event now. We told him he was doing great. He was. It was a cold and wet day to be out completing your first half. And first half marathons are tough. Particularly if you're fuelling with water from yesterday and B12 spray.

There was a bit of coughing and a lot of spitting. So much spitting. And he wasn’t very diligent about direction. 

Vicky and I dodged the spit and kept cheering on our champion. “You're doing amazing, Mark!” Please stop spitting at us.



Vicky and I were snacking on the sweeties now. We had no-one else to give them to except the gentleman in front of us and he reckoned he was all set with his B12 spray. 

A woman with a dog wearing a coat came towards us. It lunged at Mark who said “Oh Jesus Christ” in shock. The woman  said ‘That’s a funny way to say hello’ as though it had been Mark who had lunged at the dog. 



Mark was in a funny mood now. It wasn't surprising. He had been doing 19 minute miles for about 3 hours and the weather was dreadful. He didn't seem to be sure whether he wanted to talk to us or not. We let him decide and walked behind. We were just back marking, he was the runner, the important one. This was his event.

Unfortunately due to timing, the roads were now open to traffic. We did however, have the support car and the motorcycle marshals which gave us some visibility but we moved to the pavements and cycle paths for safety. The marshals were packing down the mile markers in front of us which must have been tough for Mark.

Mark however was a character. With main character energy. He decided that nothing was going to stop him from finishing his half marathon, whether that was HGVs, cars or major roundabouts. And because of that he started running across junctions without looking. Vicky and I didn't know what to do. We weren't in a position to stop traffic. We offered to go on ahead to check if junctions were clear for him, but he told us he didn't care. And we were to leave him.

Eeek! Did we have a duty of care? We felt that we did but where does this end?

We came up to a major roundabout and the motorcycle marshals offered to block traffic for him so he could cross it towards the finish. But he refused to follow their directions  and ran off down a side road.

We all looked at each other. What to do?

Vicky and I followed on. We were backmarkers, so we would back mark. The side road led over a footbridge, so obviously the support car and the motorcycles couldn't follow. We followed up the bridge at a distance and watched as he spat at a family and their dog. Deliberately? Who knows. Mark was going through things.

Vicky and I were going through spit. Everywhere. Even if we lost sight of him, we could follow the trail of spit.


A passerby spotted us and said “Ooh you’re behind the backmarkers!” Vicky replied “We ARE the backmarkers.” We were wet and cold. And I was very much looking forward to a hot cup of coffee. It had been a long 4 hours and it would have been a tough morning, if not for the lovely company of Vicky whose chat and good temper kept me going. 

As we meandered behind Mark who was now making weird noises and calling himself a totally different name, I realised things were starting to look familiar.  

This is it. We're nearly at the finish. Thank GOD.



Up a small incline and I could see the blue finish arch. Hallelujah. 




We gave Mark more distance so he'd have some good finish photos and could get the deserved applause from the volunteers. As he crossed the finish line and got a medal, he was interviewed by BBC Coventry as the last finisher.

He was smiley, happy and didn't spit at her ONCE.

Vicky and I looked at each other. Our job was done. Tea and medals.

Except the medals packed been packed away. Bother. But the kind volunteers gave us theirs. We found a warm coffee shop and I put a call into work to explain that the half marathon had taken 4 and a half hours so I might need to extend my time off.

I decided to check the result to see if Vicky or I was the official last finisher or whether Mark had the position of honour. And discovered that our intrepid Mark was not Mark at all.

He had been running under a photocopied number from another runner who had cracked their half marathon in at a nice solid 1 hour 50.

So Mark … or Dave … or Gary ... or whoever you are. I hope you enjoyed your free event, the guided tour and the company of Vicky and I. Hope you got some good B12 spray on afterwards and rehydrated well after all that spitting. 

Vicky and I had a grand day out and will see you next year!



Saturday, 27 July 2024

Book Review: SMART RUNNING by Jen & Sim Benson

*I was sent a copy of the book to review by Vertebrate Publishing. I wasn't paid to review it and as usual have written exactly what I thought!*




What do you want from a running book?


What you get from this book, will depend entirely on what you are expecting. If you want a jokey, blog-style book with anecdotes and pretty pictures, this is not the book for you. However, if you want a comprehensive guide to all things running, then read on ...




First Impressions

This is a chunky and weighty book. It looks like a textbook and even the graphics on the front look like a school workbook. It has a wipe-clean cover and instead of reviews or blurb on the rear cover, it has a list of contents. Bullet-pointed.

Everything about the exterior of this book says it is a SERIOUS running book.

It even calls itself the ULTIMATE guide to becoming a fitter, stronger, more confident runner.

In other words, don't pick up this book unless you are prepared to take it seriously. The contents listing takes up three pages and the bibliography at the back listing the sources takes up four. It is titled 'Smart Running' snd intends to give the impression that you should take this book seriously if you wish to take advantage of the knowledge and advice it has to impart.


Why I like it

Despite the pages with tightly packed 10pt text in columns, this book has a friendly voice. The authors are experienced runners and Jen is a mindfulness coach and this is reflected in how the book is written.  And much as the book seems to take itself very seriously, it is well written and sensitive and you like the authors through the tone of the writing. They cover gender and menopause in the chapter about diversity, something which is often skipped over. 

Something that they touch on  - which is close to my heart' is how the authors refer to Type 2 fun;
‘running should be fun - at least retrospectively’ (page XIV). We get a lot of posts flooding our social media pages telling us how amazing running is and showing these people with perfect hair and makeup smiling and high-fiving each other. That's not my usual run experience. Mine tend to be falling in holes, regretting ever entering the event and getting lost. But after the event, I'm pleased I've done it. Type 2 fun. It was nice to have this touched on in this book. 

There are lots of really good sections, one which appealed to me was the sport and exercise psychology - such an interesting topic. It would be really good to have a ‘further reading’ list for this or links to the bibliography so I can look into this further.

I liked Chapter 15 which was about finding routes and giving something back. I liked this but ifelt t could have been expanded on so much more, for instance by maybe suggesting companies like Good Gym who workout around community benefits such as litter picking. I understand the authors don’t want to link to specific companies but this would be handy as suggestions for ways that runners could give back to their communities.




Overview

How valuable you will find this book depends on what you want from it. If you want a guide with many, many subjects touched on and a fair overview and evaluation of these, this is a very good book. Smart Running's USP is that it's based on solid science but explained in a very accessible way and I think it hits this target. if you're looking for in-depth information, this is not the book for you. However, due to the number of topics touched on it really does cover a lot of subject matter and it's a great way to get an overview of a topic. I believe it would benefit from suggesting further reading, but it does have a bibliography of sources at the back of the book if you want to go more in-depth on a topic. 




I like the way it's written. It's set out in a logical way and covers most things I would expect to be in a running guide. Despite looking like a textbook, it has a friendly voice, and while you wouldn't necessarily sit down to read this cover-to-cover, it is a good guide to dip in and out of. I would like some graphics or pictures though to break up the dense text a little. 

A good gift for the runner in your life and a good book for the bookshelf to dip into when you need some guidance. I like it and it will have a place on my bookshelf. 


Want to have a closer look? Link