A Beginner’s Guide to Running Terms (What They ACTUALLY Mean) - ADIDAS

NOTE: I'm lucky enough to have been approached by ADIDAS who have invited me to be a part of their Blogger Community. This means I get to link up with other like-minded bloggers (which I take to mean other snack-obsessed runners) and they give me some ADIDAS vouchers to write my blogs … which I do anyway! Sounds like an absolute win to me!

I'm doing nothing different except adding some links to ADIDAS kit! Win win!

So you’ve decided to become a runner. Congratulations! You are now part of a noble, unhinged community who willingly spend hundreds of pounds on shoes that promise to make us slightly quicker at parkrun and who think “relaxing” means voluntarily running up a hill. Hills. Plural.

This post is fuelled by crème eggs, sarcasm, and the fact I’m currently wearing head-to-toe Adidas tracksuits (If I can’t run fast, at least I can look like I know what I’m doing.)

But before you lace up and trot off, you need to know the language. Running has its own dictionary, and like all good dictionaries, it’s mainly full of words that sound either ridiculous, misleading or like medical conditions you’d rather not discuss with your GP.

Don’t worry though … I’ve put together a handy guide to running terms, complete with their REAL meanings.

Oh Yes. Having a grand old time trying to run up hills ... *CRIES*

PB (Personal Best)

Official definition: Your fastest ever time over a certain distance.

Actual meaning: The time you’ll spend the rest of your life trying (and failing) to beat. Despite new (and ever more expensive) shoes, new (and more complicated) training plans and trying new (and ever weirder) fuels & recipes … it'll remain elusive. However, a PB is definitely more achievable if you’re wearing shiny new kit. (Cough Adidas ladies black trainers cough). It's not worked yet. But I'm no quitter … goes off to buy 67^th pair of trainers.


Fartlek

Official definition: A Swedish training method meaning “speed play.”

Actual meaning: A word that makes non-runners think you’ve joined a Dad Joke comedy club. Also, running fast until you regret it, then jogging slowly until guilt forces you to speed up again. Repeat until death. Or vomit. Or brown shorts. 


Negative Split

Official definition: Running the second half of a race faster than the first.

Actual meaning: Something your coach suggests with a straight face, as if you’re not already sweating like you've eaten your child's easter eggs and they've asked for help looking for them, by halfway through the race. Go faster? Now? HOW?

Yes. That's me at London Marathon this year getting beaten by a penguin,

Carb-Loading

Official definition: Eating extra carbohydrates before a big race to fuel your body.

Actual meaning: Pasta. So much pasta. Pasta for breakfast, pasta for lunch, pasta until your family stage an intervention and beg you to eat a vegetable. Luckily, Adidas leggings and mens tracksuits stretch far enough to accommodate your new spaghetti baby belly. 


Bonk / Hitting the Wall

Official definition: When your glycogen stores run out mid-race, leaving you exhausted.

Actual meaning: The precise moment you discover your legs are ornamental and your brain is made of soup. Minestrone soup to be precise. And you wish you were on the sofa instead with a cold beer with your slippers on and your man hoodie.


Tempo Run

Official definition: A comfortably hard effort.

Actual meaning: An oxymoron. Like describing my race photos as “pretty ugly”.

It's perfectly NORMAL to run up mountains on holiday. *cough*

Taper

Official definition: The period of reduced training before a race. 

Actual meaning: A time when you run less, eat more, and panic constantly that you’ve forgotten how to run. Symptoms include Googling “Can I lose fitness in 72 hours?” at 2am. And when fuelling sensibly involves me wondering how many crème eggs I can justify as “sensible”.

Time to dig out your walking boots and get some miles in around that marathon expo. Walking doesn't count as mileage right? Want some more kit while you're tapering? Get your hiking boots here!


Shakeout Run

Official definition: A short jog to loosen your legs before a race.

Actual meaning: A public catwalk where you parade your carefully chosen race kit while pretending not to be terrified. (Top tip: new Adidas running tops look even faster than they feel.)


Ultra

Official definition: Any race longer than a marathon.

Actual meaning: A marathon, but with more snacks. Usually entered after two glasses of wine and the phrase, “How hard can it be?” And encouragement from online friends who will join you in thinking “What the hell have I just done?” the next morning.



Garmin (or any GPS watch)

Official definition: A device that tracks pace, distance and time.

Actual meaning: A small wrist tyrant that decides your self-worth. Finishing a run feeling amazing? Wrong. Garmin says your “training status” is “detraining.” Now cry. At least my Adidas womens hoodie never judges me. It just quietly soaks up the sweat and pretends everything’s fine.

And there you have it: the secret codebook of running. You’re welcome. Next time someone brags about their negative splits or invites you to a fartlek session, you’ll know exactly what they mean (or at least how much to laugh in their face).

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go “carb-load.” Which is a fancy way of saying I’ve just cooked an entire family-sized lasagne… for me. And yes, I’ll be eating it while wearing my Adidas waterproof trainers because fuelling is serious business.

She Chose It - ADIDAS

I didn’t want to be THAT mum. You know the one. Hovering on the sidelines with a clipboard and a whistle, shouting at their kid to go quicker, logging splits on a spreadsheet like a wannabe PE teacher. But with more embarrassment for the kid.

I wanted her to choose it. Not because I love it — although I do — but because I know what running gives you. What it’s given me.

Running has given me more than fitness. It’s brought me the kind of friendships that can only be forged at 7am on a frosty start line wearing your tracksuit when someone shares their jelly babies and a slightly-too-intimate story about chafing. It’s given me community. Support. The kind of unspoken solidarity where someone on the internet I've never met will send me a ‘'C'mon Booker,,, you got this!’ message just because I’ve posted a photo of myself wearing a race bib.

It’s given me the kind of moments that stay stitched into memory: running through dusk with owls overhead and deer slipping through the grass like secrets. It’s given me triumphs and disasters — and the wisdom to laugh about both. (Eventually. Usually after snacks.)

And I wanted that for her. I wanted her to have that. Not the medals or the PBs or the Strava uploads — but the magic.

But here’s the thing about the magic of running: you can’t gift it. You can’t hand it over wrapped in tissue paper with a motivational quote and a pair of Adidas ladies black trainers trainers. You have to find it. Trip over it. Breathe it in when you least expect it — somewhere between “this was a terrible idea” and “did I just fly a little bit?”

And she’s found it.

She’s running now. Really running. Not just jogging next to me asking how much longer, or walking the track at tri club with her mates because the session is technically optional if you talk fast enough. She’s running intervals. She’s flying round parkrun. She’s also twigged that if she does parkrun there's usually a cafe stop afterwards. With cake.

I think she’s felt it — that flicker of something wonderful. The sense that her legs can take her somewhere she didn’t think she could go. That she’s strong. That she’s capable. That running is hers.

And if she stops again? That’s fine. If life gets busy or chaotic or her interests take her somewhere else — that’s fine too. Because the magic doesn’t go. It just waits. Running waits. Through exams and heartbreak and stressy jobs and maybe, years from now, a little girl of her own who refuses to nap and thinks trainers are chew toys.

One day, she might lace up again and run out into the quiet and feel it: the roads and trails still hers. Her head clears. Her breath steadies. The magic is there.

She chose it. And I’m so, so glad.

I'm standing just in front of the camera with a comfy top like an Adidas women's hoodie really to snuggle her up in a hug with. 

NOTE: I'm lucky enough to have been approached by ADIDAS who have invited me to be a part of their Blogger Community. This means I get to link up with other like-minded bloggers (which I take to mean other snack-obsessed runners) and they give me some ADIDAS vouchers to write my blogs … which I do anyway! Sounds like an absolute win to me!

I'm doing nothing different except adding some links to ADIDAS kit that I'm looking at getting with my vouchers and which I think you might also like!

Weymouth Middle Distance Triathlon & Not Being a Pillock - ADIDAS sponsored

NOTE: I'm lucky enough to have been approached by ADIDAS who have invited me to be a part of their Blogger Community. This means I get to link up with other like-minded bloggers (which I take to mean other snack-obsessed runners) and they give me some ADIDAS vouchers to write my blogs … which I do anyway! Sounds like an absolute win to me!

I'm doing nothing different except adding some links to some decent Adidas kit!

Weymouth Middle Distance Triathlon is one of my faves. It’s always a toughie as the sea - which  looks like glass from the shore is unpredictable and the bike is hilly and the unshaded run is almost always hot. But I love it. It’s a good test of training and mental resilience. And of my ability to eat 4 gels without crying. Note: last year I failed at the not crying. But I DID eat the gels. 

This year, though? My swim and bike fitness have taken a slight knock. And by knock, I mean they’ve packed their bags, left a note, and haven’t been seen since last August. I’ve been running instead. It’s simple and it doesn’t require lugging half a garage of gear every time I travel for work. Ladies black trainers and go. Perfect.

As a result, Weymouth triathlon despite looming ever closer, was never really on my planning radar except all of a sudden it was here. And so was I. With my bike which had been sat on soft tyres and my wetsuit still hung up from the last open water swim. 

There had also been a stomach upset issue for a few days on the previous week. I’d had a beautiful test run in Weymouth on the Saturday but things didn’t feel right. The views were lovely but my tummy was grumpy. I decided to call whether I did it or not on the morning, with the decision already made about dropping it down from middle distance to sprint distance. 

Doing a long event when you're not feeling 100% or on not enough training isn’t being a hero, it’s being a pillock. I don’t want to be a pillock so a short swim, short bike and a 5km run sounded like more manageable distances. I reckoned I could get through an hour or so of a triathlon without incident.

But waking up at 0500hrs on the morning of the race, I wasn't feeling it. I get excited before my events, but I was dreading having to get into the sea. This wasn't like me, so I made the decision to skip this one. 

Triathlon will wait. There will always be another one. 

So instead, I went on an ADVENTURE RUN! (Hiking boots suggestion here!)

Because if things went horribly wrong mid-run, I could always call a taxi. Whereas in the triathlon, I couldn't exactly hail an Uber from the middle of the bay. 

Armed with my very reliable (cough) Garmin, I plotted a route through all the places I fancied seeing. I ran along Weymouth Promenade, picked up the Rodwell Trail (a gorgeous disused railway path), past Sandsfoot Castle and the Dripping Well, across Chesil Beach to Portland, then hopped onto the South West Coast Path for some gorgeous but brutal running.

I ran through Tout Quarry Sculpture Park, where Old Roy—an enormous stone creature with stone eyeballs woven into his fur (an old Portland legend) almost made me jump out of my skin.

Then, the route popped me out by St George’s Church — a disused, beautiful church built of the grey Portland stone. I wandered around the gravestones and found the bomb crater which had been turned into a memorial of the headstones destroyed by the bomb.

I still wasn’t feeling 100%, but there were no pace goals, no finish lines to chase, just curiosity and sunshine. I even stopped at Portland Museum and spent a happy hour looking at shipwreck artefacts and dinosaur bones. You don’t get that in transition.

Of course, no Booker run is complete without a detour through brambles and bad decisions. I attempted a 'shortcut' into what turned out to be a thorny tunnel that ended in a chain-link fence. Cue a bit (lot) of muttering and some scrambling to get out of the thorny tunnel. Why I had thought there might be a path at the end of a bramble patch which I LITERALLY had to crawl through, I have no idea. Lessons. 

Some solid walking boots would have been handy for this section!

From bramble patch to prison and I passed the famous grey stones of Portland prison, then descended what might actually be the steepest hill in Britain. My quads are still holding a grudge. At the bottom, I chatted with a lovely local runner around the marina who was flying along and I carried on exploring.

Then I got stung by a bee on Chesil Beach (not a euphemism). It was breezy, it panicked, I panicked, it ended up in my top and someone got stung (me). I felt a bit bad. I like bees but it had stung me before I had even realised it was trapped so didn't have a chance to rescue it.

Sorry bee.

I stopped at the Dripping Well, where the sunlight slanted through the trees and the drops of water glittered in the light. It felt peaceful. And magical. And I felt slightly less sting-y.

Sixteen miles later, I rolled back into Weymouth. Tired, sun-kissed, salt-sweaty and absolutely chuffed. I met Mum and Auntie Jen at the beach for a cider and an ice cream like a true athlete. Fuelling, innit.

Moral of my story?

Listen to your body. Don’t be a pillock. And sometimes, ditching the race number is the best race day decision you can make.

Triathlon can wait. But adventures? They’re always ready when you are.

Map of run: Strava

Links to suggested kit if you fancy doing this run: Kit