Tag Archives: grumpy

Beat the heat (….and keep running!)

Are you melting as you read this? Is worry about spending another night kicking off the covers making you itchy about your sleep prospects during this heat wave? And did you know this summer is set to be the warmest in 135 years? As we celebrate the great yellow orb’s return you can throw out your fears of sleepless nights, say goodbye to grumpy mornings and get ready for work with a zing in your step with these great tips, shared by Silentnight sleep expert, Dr Nerina Ramlakhan (and don’t be stingy and keep these to yourself – save your loved ones from broiling in the bed and share them! They will be easier to live with, too!).

1. Stop your bedroom over-heating during the day by keeping curtains and
blinds closed

2. Wash your feet with cold water before getting into bed, and run your
wrists under cold water

3. Use light bed sheets and a summer duvet – 4.5 Tog recommended

4. Try a Geltex mattress from Silentnight, with an innovative combination of an extremely elastic gel and air-permeable foam offering unparalleled breathability to prevent the body from overheating

5. Finally, it is essential to stay well hydrated during the day and most importantly, don’t fret too much if you can’t sleep. Use the time to rest and think positive thoughts, then you will be extra productive the day after (I particularly like this one, as often you just can’t get to sleep, for many different reasons: now you can use this time productively!)

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Not enough? You’re already doing all of the above? Well, firstly, well done on being so on the ball, and secondly, here’s a few more quirky tips for you to try….

Use a fan and place it so that it is blowing the air over a tray of ice – this will cool the room down as the ice melts

Keep a plant mister containing water by your bed to spray on your face during the night

Place a wet flannel in the fridge for an hour or so before getting into bed and lay it on your forehead to help you drift off

Sleep in cool wet socks or even a damp T-shirt

Chill your pillow case in the freezer before getting into bed

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Good luck! You can get even more sleep tips from Dr Nerina by visiting the Silentnight Sleep Toolkit at: http://www.silentnight.co.uk/sleep-matters/dr-nerinas-sleep-toolkit/#22662

Have you got any tips you can share?

I’ve not been completely honest with you….

noo noo girl running for David

I have something to tell you. Please don’t be cross. But I haven’t been completely honest with you. I fear you are going to be angry with me…. I know when we met you expected me to be open with you. It’s part of the deal, isn’t it. But there’s something I haven’t been telling you. I couldn’t. I was scared of the consequences. I know we are supposed to share everything. I just couldn’t tell anyone. So it’s not just you I’ve been dishonest with, it’s everyone.

I’ve been training for a marathon. Is that it? you laugh. But it’s not a simple thing, is it, when that one run means more to you than anything else in the world. I see other people, on Facebook, twitter, at my club, able to share their journey with club mates, friends and peers. Every training run, the niggles and injuries, the ups and downs. I couldn’t. Not this time. I was so scared I wouldn’t make it, that I feared sharing my hopes. Even though I try to encourage and motivate every person who needs help, I can’t ask for that help in return. This issue I have seems to go very deep. If you read my next column you will maybe understand a little why I couldn’t share this with anyone. My friend Marina says to me: “You are the first person to offer help, but the last person to accept it.” Is this some kind of genetic default?

We all want to be good runners, right? When the person who comes before you is more than just a good runner, it’s such a hard task to try and achieve for yourself. What I am really trying to say, is that I really wanted is for my dad, the great runner, to show me that he really loved me. ME. The blonde-haired, blue-eyed feisty person that is me. Just me. For me. And one way I hoped to gain his recognition, later on in my life, was through running. Its something we both were so, so passionate about.

Why do any of us seek admiration or affirmation from anyone else in this world? We all know that the only person who can make us happy, is ourselves. Yet the thoughts, hopes and opinions of others really do count, don’t they? The primary school teacher you hope to impress. The friends at college and university you want to accept you. The other mums at play group you need to listen to your struggles. Not one of us can exist in isolation. We don’t need science to tell us this.

I guess my biggest fear is failure. But not in a traditional sense. In the sense of not showing myself that I can be strong, be loved, be different. If I think I am really opening myself up, I am very unsure of what will happen.

Anyway, the long runs have been getting longer. And they were going well. Until the return of an old niggle, that quickly became more than a niggle and blossomed into a full-blown injury. Suddenly all my plans were upset. And this happened a few weeks a go. I only have less than two weeks to race day, so it’s too late to do anything now. So it’s here, it won’t be here forever,  but I think its put an end to the one race I have been planning to do for a long time. I am so angry I want to shout and cry and promise that if only it will go away I will stretch every day and do my conditioning and cross-train like a good athlete. The truth is, niggles and injuries arriving just before race day are part of a runner’s life, aren’t they? Just like you, I have to get on with it. If I was a man, you would say man-up. But I am not quite ready to let go of my hopes of making race day. I do think I am having a major adult temper tantrum, though, yet in the most controlled mature manner you could possibly expect. Even if I don’t make the start-line, there will be other marathons I tell myself.  I am so fed up with being grown up! I have 12 days to sort myself out. Will I make it?

Living with the curse…

noo noo girl running for David

Having a womb is both a blessing, and a curse. My womb has produced my beautiful children, and for that I shall forever be grateful to it. But the monthly backache, abdominal pain, bloating and spots, to be honest, I have had enough of. You can feel your period coming, like a steam train roaring out of control downhill; the passengers desperately want to jump for their lives, but have to endure their journey to the bitter end. Snatching at people, befuddled brain, losing the will to carry on; all these are monthly visitations that I dread. I try to imagine they are just not there; I am not feeling grumpy, tired, miserable, moody, irritable, tetchy, impatient or cross. No. I am floating away, over a summer meadow full of wild flowers with their dizzying scent surrounding me, totally at peace with myself and the universe.

Even though it’s the last thing you want to do when you are feeling at a low ebb, running does alleviate some of the more ’emotional’ triggers that your period can bring, even if it doesn’t really help with the physical issues. Seriously, if I couldn’t, when at the point of exploding with frustration at every human being within a one-mile radius, just go for a run – on my own, with absolutely no other oxygen-breathing entity entering my ‘white light’ (a sphere of about 10 metres that extends in front of, behind, above and below my body) – I would probably end up incarcerated. Not just thrown into a cell, with the key metaphorically tossed into a river. We are talking about being chained to a cart and taken to Tyburn gallows, hanged, disembowelled then my body cut into four parts, each with a limb attached (to be displayed outside my home) with my head probably put on a spike on London Bridge.

Yet, go for a run, and life becomes like that Chariots of fire beach scene that begins and ends the film… There I am, running down the beach, with the spray suspended around me, a ridiculously happy smile on my face. Sand all over my kit; doesn’t matter. Wind ruining my hair; no worries. Rain smudging my mascara; not a problem. Except, unlike the main characters, Eric Liddell and Harold Abrahams, there are no Olympic gold medals to be had in between. Instead, the reward is simply release. Release mainly of stress, situated firmly and deeply in the brain region.

I am sure if I didn’t have this outlet, then I would feel as if my head had been boiling in a cauldron of water for half and hour, with my eyes already burst and a strong layer of fat risen to the surface. Yes, reader, it truly can feel that bad. I’ve tried taking supplements to help me recently – both with improving my running, and coping with monthly fatigue and period pain. The one-supplement-fits-all powder I tried looked liked pondweed. It promised me every nutrient I could possibly need in my over-worked and over-stretched lifestyle. Knowing it was so amazing I persevered, for about four days, after which my stomach, and gagging, firmly told me no more. Then I progressed to an elixir that would improve my speed in a race, only to suffer horrific wind – horrific for both me and those around me. Even the extra potent royal jelly, filled with the wizened knowledge and power of millions of years of queen bees made no inroad into my sorry state. The label of this last panacea stated: store in a cool, dry place, out of sight and reach of children. Did it mean me, or the supplement? I drank the full contents of one vial before breakfast every day for peak performance. There was none.

Maybe, just maybe, good old-fashioned rest is all I need to re-establish some state of peace, both emotionally and physically. Well, the sun is now strong enough to send warmth deep into the soul, so now I’ve finished writing this I am going to make a coffee and allow the spring sunshine to work it’s magic. Mother nature to the rescue, once again.

Stuff the self-pity

noo noo girl running for David

Being a woman is just so tough! With my race kit methodically laid out on Saturday night, I went to bed in anticipation of a local 10k race the next morning. When I woke up my back was in creaking agony and it felt like someone had inflated a (painful) balloon in my abdomen; yes, my period had started. My first reaction was … “ugh, not today…it’s a mission just to get childcare sorted for a weekend race, get myself sorted and to the race on time, summon the mental energy needed to attempt to run at threshold pace (80-85 per cent effort is as mentally exhausting for me as it is physically!) pull myself together at the end, return home, collect children, then carry on with all the normal Sunday events… without an achy back and stomach”. So my initial hopes of a PB were left on my pillow and a grumpy me slumped down to the kitchen to prepare my porridge. A sorrier sight of self-pity could not have been found in any other house in the land.

Already I was making my excuses; how can I possibly hope to run well when I am in pain; men have it so easy; I don’t think I am up to this; I am expecting too much from myself – if you are a woman, you will know exactly what I mean! I was not doing myself any favours, and I had written myself off before I even left the house. But I didn’t decide to bail out and, in automaton-like fashion, I got myself ready and drove to the event. Everyone from my club, as always, was buzzing, despite of a light drizzle provided from above – the perfect cooling shower for 300 or so runners. Some were nursing slight hangovers but still expected to do well, some were eager to get the race over to get on with the day’s planned events, then there was me… sad me standing rubbing my back and wondering how my body was going to respond when it received the command to run fast.

The gun went off and the faster starters shot ahead. I did not. My legs did respond to my brain though, and after a few minutes I managed to forget my sore back as I concentrated on placing my feet through the hazy rain. The more I thought about running the less attention I could give to my ailments, and the less attention I gave to them, the less they seemed to hurt. Once my rhythm was established, which takes me a good few miles, I surprised myself to be enjoying the cadence, as well as being outside, even though the sun was not in support of us. Running in the rain has a mysticism about it; one is transformed back thousands of years to our ancestors who would have had to run to hunt in all weathers. The rain makes me feel connected to the earth and life, present, past and future, unlike any other running weather.

And then it was done; 10k ran. It wasn’t my day for a PB, but I wasn’t far off. Yet I finished feeling refreshed and invigorated, and much more ready for the day ahead of me than I would have otherwise been. In short, running bought me out of myself and helped me step out of my little puddle of self-pity. If you can get out for a run, despite of, not because of your life, then you have achieved something special for that day. With the ‘life-juggling’ we woman perform, we have to re-focus every so often and remember that every run or race we do is the achievement, whatever the pace, time or pain. Sacrificing one type of pain for another obviously has some benefits.