Tredmill Rage

If you run you'll get this if you don't you'll think I have tourettes. . . sort of.

I am mentally trying to get used to the idea of running for more than an hour. Much more than an hour. Did I mention The Snowdon Marathon that is taking place in October and that I am participating in what Runners World called the UK's Hardest Marathon in 2007?!

So, not loving Mondays much I decided this week to hit the treadmill and see how long I could take running. It was not about speed it was about mental stamina. I will need to break this beast if I am going to make 26 miles worth of Welsh hills.


At 6o minutes my stomach was calling out for a break from bouncing around. 4 minutes later I was confronted with my first Paul Radcliffe moment, so I rushed off to the ladies for the necessaries, leaving my treadmill on pause.

On jumping off the treadmill and turning for the toilets my legs were still operating at 8kph and I shot off like a snapping elastic band.

On my return I was confronted with a blank machine.

All my stats gone.

ANY sign that I had been consistently running for over 60 minutes, that I had covered more than 10k, that I had burned through more than 700 calories, that I had spent this time running at an incline of 1%, was all lost. . .

I did manage to get a look from the two treadmill runners on either side of me when I uttered a frustrated "FUCK" when I realised what had happened.

These runners had only been on for 15 minutes. They had no idea about the level of my Monday night commitment & determination. They could look all they liked. I wasn't about to apologise, I'd earned that sweary word. They could just be grateful it wasn't louder and that the whole gym hadn't heard.

Not prepared to be sabotaged by technology I angrily whacked on another 25 minutes, ramped in incline up to an impressive 1% and set the speed back to the 8 kph per hour. Then started doing the maths.

Oh yes if I were set the challenge of running a marathon on a canal I would be done in 5 hours.

So much more work required. . .