Parish Walk Training Diary

These past two weekends,  I’ve had what I’d call two “proper” walks, both from Old Laxey to the Dhoon via the main road then back over Ballaraugh. The first time took 1 hour 30 mins and the second time took 1 hour 25 mins. The wind was so strong around the Bulgham Rocks that I was nearly blown over each time. I’d felt that I really didn’t have time to go out for these walks but the feeling on coming home again was brilliant. Getting buffeted by the wind, trying to force yourself to go that bit faster makes you whizz along when it comes to the flat and the downhills. Really, I think I should be doing these walks (about 5 miles) mid-week with a longer one at the weekend but as I said at the begining, I’ll just do what I can.

It was a nice evening so when I got in from work, I changed into my gear and shot out of the house, leaving Husband with two defrosted chicken kievs and instructions for the oven settings. It felt so good to walk at a decent pace without a pram for the first time in ages. I found that I didn’t know what to do with my arms. I experimented with keeping them at chest height (that seemed the most comfortable). Having your arms free definitely helps on steep up-hills, though I felt that all this pram pushing has strengthened my leg muscles. I could still feel the knot of muscle in the back of my neck that I’ve had since breast feeding. I tried to consciously relax my shoulders down as I walked. Only a 40 minute walk around Laxey and still back in time for Corrie. About 2 miles. But better than nothing.

I decided that my old trainers were too decrepit for training and went to the sports shop in town. Whilst I took my shoes and socks off, I explained to the assistant that I’d like to go on the treadmill in order to be properly fitted for a decent pair of trainers. “You don’t need to go on the treadmill,” she looked at me standing in bare feet, “you definitely pronnate.” I looked at her blankly. “Your arches have completely gone,” she told me. Does that make me a Viking or a Celt? I can never remember which nationality’s arch you’re supposed to be able to fit a mouse under…

This won’t have occured to male walkers, I’m sure - however, if you’re a well-endowed woman, a decent sports bra is the first purchase you need to make when kitting yourself out for Parish Walk training. Being in a post-pregnancy state can leave you with a breast size which defies the resources of every lingerie outlet in the island. If, like me, you find youself in this position, I can thoroughly recommend the on-line company, Bravissimo. They have every size - some you’ve never even heard of.  Better still: go across to one of their shops and be properly fitted. The sports bra they found for me works well. But this is because the bit that goes around the rib cage (where you need the support) is as tightly fitted as a whale bone corset. There are three hooks to struggle with and because it’s so tight, it takes 10 minutes to get into the thing. Needless to say, I have not yet managed to get changed and get out for a training walk during the lunch hour. I wonder if there are any handicaps available for those walkers with a HH size or more?

So far this week, I’ve done one walk which I’d count as a training walk, even though I was pushing the pram at the time. I went from Laxey Beach, along the main road to Baldrine corner then up the steep hill to the Begoade Road, just before the Five and a Half. I thought, “How can I make this a training walk, as opposed to a fast stroll?” So I decided to keep up the same pace I’d walked at on the flat, main road. This was quite a feat, considering the steepness of the road and the fact that I was pushing an 18 lb baby.

What I noticed, though, was that the knot of muscle on the left hand side at the back of my neck - which has been knotted up since breast feeding and is still knotted with carrying the baby - was burning like mad. I tried to relax my shoulders while I walked but it’s a bit difficult when you’re hanging onto the handlebar of the pram.

Once at Axnfell, I came down Rencell Hill, greatful that we’d bought a pram with a disc brake and continued along the Glen Road and up Old Laxey Hill to home. It took just under two hours which means I must’ve been walking at about 2.5 miles an hour which can’t be bad with a pram, can it?

I haven’t had a chance to do my usual Monday night swim as I’ve been in London on a course for a few days. I miss having the swim, even if it’s only once a week. Walking through the underground in London, I felt like a real Manxee, being overtaken on both sides by feverish commuters. I don’t miss living in London but I realised that I actually did a lot more walking, in an average day, when I lived in the city.

My first Mothers Day! My husband brought our baby to me, holding a special First Mothers Day card for me - how sweet! He then went off on his Sunday cycle training. (He’s been a member of the British Cycle Team since I met him so Saturday and Suday mornings are sewn-up, training-wise for him.) So…I had two choices for the afternoon: go for my first Parish Walk Training Walk or spend the afternoon with my new, little family. Guess which one won? I wonder whether pushing a pram at full-tilt into the wind from the Point of Ayre to Ballaghennie counts as Parish Walk training? I hope so.

I’ve been having a look at the Training Diaries on the Parish Walk website. God:these people are serious athletes. They talk about running up Barrule; going snowboarding; one person mentions something pulling at his ‘hip abductors’ - I don’t know what they are but after 18 months of little exercise, I could do with some of those myself.

The other Bloggers seem so dedicated. They’re aware of their bodies. They’ve already done the Parish Walk or they’ve taken part in organised events like 10 km road races. I have never, ever taken part in an organised, sporting event - not even at school. (Infact, I have to admit that I hated games lessons at school so much that I can’t bare to watch sport on TV, even now. )

I bet they’ve got all the kit: the right kind of air-cushioned trainers; luminous bibs; non-chafe clothing that keeps you warm in cold weather and stops you sweating in the heat. I need some proper clothes if I’m going to start training seriously. My old trainers should do for now but I’ve heard that the sports shop in Douglas has one of those treadmills where you run on the spot and they study your style and find you the right trainers. I also need some running leggings as my wide-bottomed tracksuits are not very wind resistant.

But the fact remains: when am I going to make time to train? On work days, I get up at 6.30 in order to get our baby ready and get to work for 9am so there isn’t really time in the mornings. On the other days I’m looking after our baby - and I want to spend time with her because there are three days when I’m away from her at work. I could try doing an hour’s training in my dinner hour then having a sandwich at my desk. I’ve measured the distance between the Manx Radio building and the first kissing gate on Marine Drive and the return trip is at least two miles. So that would make six miles. Then once the evening are lighter…Hang on…Let’s try the dinnertimes first…

Chatting to Parish Walk website host, Murray Lambden about the Parish Walk. He asked me if I’d ever done the walk myself. I said that I would have trained for the last one but had been too pregnant to take part. He asked me if I’d ever considered doing a Parish Walk training blog. ‘What would be the point of that if I’m not actually going to do the walk?” I asked. “Exactly!” was his reply.

Consequently, I find myself, near the end of February, setting up a blog and giving it the optimistic title, Parish Walk Training Diary. Ha! I don’t even have time to do my post natal pelvic floor squeezes, let alone find the opportunity to go for a five mile training walk.

So why did I decide to commit myself to this seemingly crazy idea? My first reaction to Murray’s suggestion was that, with a relatively new baby plus having just returned to work three days a week, I won’t have time to train. However, the morning he asked me had been particularly busy at work. I drove to Marine Drive for a quick 20 minute walk to clear my head. The sun was shining, the sea and cliffs looked spectacular: the frantic pace of the office seemed a million miles away. Returning to the car, I thought: if I feel this good after 20minutes, just think how fantastic I’ll feel if do commit myself to some training. Even if it’s not regular and even if, by June, instead of committing myself to one specific destination (eg Peel), won’t it be worth just trying to see how far I can get? Any training is better than no training; any exercise is better than no exercise. It’s still 18 months since I last tried to touch my toes!