I am having a Day of Utter Misery.

It's the perfect day for a run up to Hampstead Heath, as is my custom on Wednesday mornings; bright sunshine and a pleasing winter chill in the air. But I stayed at home today because I feel tired after - presumably - Sunday, unmotivated for no apparent reason, and suspicious that Miles's tummy bug has been gifted to me. I used the morning to run errands instead, and ended up dropping an account statement from a high street shop onto the ground, complete with my name, address and account number. So now I have to paranoiacly check for new purchases until my refunds have been processed so that I can request new account details ... or something.

I was really mean to Jody this morning. She was annoying me intensely in the car with screeching (and inciting Miles to screech even louder), rolling up and down the window and worst, her incessant chanting of "Wee-wee, ca-ca, poo-poo." Something about this grotty unintelligent little ditty gets my goat by the neck and swings it around. I start with the usual: "Can you say something nice please?", swiftly moving on to the more forceful "If I hear that again there'll be no songs tonight." (She's already forfeited her stories by not responding to me the 15th time I asked her to go and get her uniform on), but once the songs have been sacrificed, where can I go? No sleep? No food? Time locked in a cold dark loft?

"I don't want to hear any more Jody. Be silent until we get to school." This works for 30 seconds until Miles starts giggling: It's much harder to silence a 2-year-old and he's done little wrong but rise to his sister's provocations. But when she starts to whisper to him to re-awaken her rhyme, I hit the roof. I am calm and malicious as I assure her that I am embarassed and ashamed that my daughter speaks in that way and that I don't care if I'm hurting her arm as I pull her across the road.

Simmer down Lara. Goodness. She's four. Reparations to be made later I think. Again.

Miles is being clingy with this bug. He had spectacular diarrhoea on Monday afternoon, the dimensions of which I had only hitherto heard were possible through whispered rumour. He'd been a bit whingy for a few minutes, as he sometimes is, but I'd escaped to the kitchen to make a quick phonecall, thinking it was nothing more than his usual mild constipation. As I wrote my new appointment in my diary I heard a little whimper from the sitting room; "Wash hands Mummy." Hmmmm ... suspicions aroused, I wondered what could possibly have dirtied Miles's hands. When I entered the room he was performing the Downward Facing Dog on one of the sofa cushions, offending hand outstretched and covered in something pretty yukky. As for the pool of gunge on the sofa cushion, it took me a while to work out that it hadn't come from his mouth, but from the top of his jeans. I hurried him to the bathroom and gradually acquainted myself with the scale of the issue as we washed and re-washed his hands, then realised that he was covered up to his chest in the gunge that had come out of the top of his nappy at the front, and down to his knees with the stuff that had leaked out of the sides. Honestly. This is the stuff of nightmares.

It took me an hour to clean and disinfect my little man, his clothes, and the sofa cushion cover (thank goodness for fire-resistant coating though, which appears to act much like a mattress protector, and also for non-shrink material because there was no way I was going to spot-clean that stain). It took more than that for the smell to dissipate and for my stomach to stop churning.

I was sure I'd keep him at home on Tuesday, but in the morning he was ravenous, with normal temperature and full of his usual mischief beans, so I decided that there could be nothing wrong with him and banished him to the care of the nursery teachers. His nappies have been filled rather more fluidly and more regularly than usual since then, but I can't say after the first eruption that it's been a particularly severe case. That said, he was complaining that his tummy hurt this morning, which added to the argument to stay within 5 minutes of the nursery - in case they called - rather than escape to Hampstead Heath.

And now I have literally dedicated three paragraphs of blog to my son's bowel movements as if it might interest the world. Apologies for my parental obsession, and moving on to more unpleasant bodily functions ...

I have an appointment this afternoon to work out whether it's the Pill that's giving me night sweats. I've read that it can be, as your body reacts to having its hormones held back, but I don't recall whether or not I had them in the 10 years I was on it before having the kids (although I know that even unmedicated, I am prone to the occasional one, which I have previously put down to vivid dreams). I don't really care what it is - I just want a solution, because for approximately half the nights in each month, I wake several times during the night bathed in sweat and usually shivering manically as my body cools itself down. I'm just not getting enough quality sleep, apart from which it's all pretty disgusting.

Despite all this misery, I have had some good things happen in the last few days. I did the Hell of the Ashdown on Sunday and enjoyed it. I was a bit underwhelmed by its status as a race, honestly speaking, because I prefer a bit of direct obvious competition (people to chase down, in other words), whereas at sportives, you get small groups of riders set off at intervals of around 5 minutes in order to not flood the roads (which are not closed). I set off with a couple of other Serpentine guys who had kindly waited for me to finish a lengthy registration process to get my welcome pack. We were all of slightly different pace, and I'd asked one of the guys to carry my sweaty course guide in his plastic pocket (that had been omitted from my own welcome pack), so this meant that we ended up splitting into groups and waiting in places. This had its payback when I had company to fix my puncture. Mental note to order a CO2 pump from Wiggle so it doesn't take me fifteen minutes next time.

I was truly knackered after the ride, so I must have put in a bit of effort. It was very undulating terrain, but with nothing too strenuous, and the weather was absolutely glorious with sunshine, dry-ish roads and acceptable temperatures throughout. I just wished it had been a bit more ... well ... combative I suppose!

Monday night (after the diarrhoea episode) was also lovely, with a visit from Milly in town on business. I made a rather bland over-noodled yaki soba and something with rhubarb for desert, which we accompanied with a variety of wine and the delicious port that Roj bought at Christmas. Truly outstanding.

....

So I've come back from the clinic and have been told that it's not likely to be the Pill causing my sweats because it's normally lack of oestrogen that does that, rather than added oestrogen from the Pill. So now I need to come off the Pill (hoooooray) and go see my GP for tests to, amongst other things, establish whether I'm having a PREMATURE MENOPAUSE. [Insert appropriate expletive.]

Grrrr. Blue screen of death in the middle of writing my last post. Why are computers so unreliable? Memory errors scare me though ... must remember to backup my photos.

I was just saying that I'm on the list now for the Hell of the Ashdown, if, as I suspect, I am actually Laura. It's amusing to see that some people still assume I've made a spelling error and add the U for themselves. You'd have thought that with Mr Brian and Mrs Croft, my name would be better recognised but it still gets a look of confusion from time to time.

I now have to decide whether to risk the train on Sunday morning - which barely gets me there in time even if not fraught by the inevitable Sunday engineering works, involves a good 5-mile ride from the station, and will probably already be full of bikes (plenty of Londoners present at the ride); or to succumb to car transport (sorry environmentalists) and risk a horrendous convoluted trip home through London traffic. Well at least I'll get home I suppose.

Looking forward to it actually. Quite excited about the prospect of my first ever cyclo-sportive. Hoping I make a bit of a miracle recovery between now and then though, because I'm totally knackered after my 5:15am alarm. When I first half-woke disgruntled, I wondered what was making such a foul noise in the middle of the night and nearly nudged Roj awake to ask him. I became even more disgruntled when I found out that it was actually my radio alarm call to go running. 5:15 is a ridiculous hour, but the only way I can fit a training session in before the day starts. And actually I quite like being out at that time in the morning in a virtually traffic-free park and knowing that I'll have completed my training before most people are even stirring. Can't wait for a bit more warmth though, and a bit more daylight. 5 degrees is a touch too bracing for me, despite many layers of expensive thermals.

It's a good job one of my resolutions wasn't to keep my blog updated more frequently. Even though it sort of was an unwritten one ... along with the photos - ha! (Although my fairly legitimate excuse for that one is that my most-used and most portable lens broke in November).

I spent 7h 10m in London parks last week, 4h of which was in the dark. There's something wrong with that: It's like moving around with your eyes shut. Mind you, the view from the top of Primrose Hill at dawn is priceless. In all I visited Regent's Park, Primrose Hill, Hampstead Heath and Richmond Park, which is quite a good record for 7 days.

I popped down to Richmond Park for cycle loops on Sunday morning and couldn't believe what a cycling mecca it is - I'm sure we could confuse even the most dedicated sci-fi fan with all our flashing rear lights. Even at 10am when I was taking the kids out on their bikes after I'd finished my session, and while Roj ran his own loop around, the vast majority of the hoardes were exercise freaks. Not many families (and those that were were on bikes themselves or jogging), and certainly not the plethora of central Londoners who meander through Regent's and Hyde parks at snail's pace; a very different scene. Fun, but just further proof that I HATE DOING LOOPS. It's weird because there's something vaguely masochistic in me that likes a good mindless workout in the gym, and that doesn't balk at doing multiple reps of Primrose Hill or Regent's Park's outer circle on foot. But get me on a bike and I feel like I should be going somewhere. And 5 or 6 loops around a 7-mile circuit does not count. In the absence of the time to do anything more substantial it was definitely acceptable (more so than the even more boring 2.8 mile loops around Regent's; at least Richmond Park has things that resemble hills), but give me a proper journey any day. Grrrr.

I had a fairly hefty training week though in all (just under 11 hours), which is henceforth recorded on Yi Shun's brainchild website Miles Removed (nothing to do with my son). I'm not sure what I can contribute to a communal training diary but it's fun to read what everyone else is doing, particularly Yi Shun who has the added benefit of being coached by a pretty high profile guy with rather good proven results. Envious? Me?

This Sunday I'm doing the Hell of the Ashdown. Or at least I think I am. Having sent off my application and had my money debited on 8th January, I expected to see my name up on the entry list when it was published early this week. Even after email and telephone conversations with the organiser, my name has not been added and my welcome pack has not arrived. I've been told that I'm in and I should come along, but part of me remains sceptical. And I don't want to trek out to Kent, for goodness sake, at ungodly o'clock on Sunday morning, only to be turned away from the start line.

On the other hand, if I really am entered, it should be good fun (my first ever cyclo-sportive, hopefully of many), and it even looks like it might be dry. I'm not doing very well at tapering though (I hate to waste good training hours!) so I might just be totally knackered for the duration. Time will tell.

After riding the Surrey Hills the other week with a slightly older lady who, though somewhat lagging on the first half, came through pretty strongly towards the end (just about the same time I was hitting the wall through involuntary starvation), I discovered that she was one of the Serpentine Golden Girls Race Across America team. I'd heard about them through the Serpentine e-group - a team of 4 women between the ages of 55 and 65 doing the impressive 3000-mile challenge later this year. I had a bit of a chat to her on our ride back to Knightsbridge, and my curiosity was aroused enough to read up on her profile on their website. And goodness me, is it impressive! She's done 120 marathons and about the same number of ultra-distance events. She's been a world champion age-grouper duathlete for years and has a large number of world records to her name. This is no ordinary woman and along with the other stories from her teammates, I found the whole thing pretty inspirational. I certainly won't complain any more that I'm nearing the end of my peak ... looks like I might have a good 30 years ahead of me!

Jody has done 2 ballet sessions now, after school on Tuesdays. I'm not sure how she feels about it. Her teacher says she seems to really enjoy it and that she's a "free spirit" (which is a phrase I'd use to tactfully describe a child who was beyond control!), but her teacher, after all, has an agenda in mind. Jody's feedback for session number 1 was "Scary!" and session number 2 "Boring!" I hope things improve! I'm still regretting not continuing her at Marylebone Ballet School on Wednesdays where she could have done 45 minutes (instead of 30) with a lot less hassle for me. But I suppose there's something to be said for integrating with her school buddies rather than her neighbourhood buddies, even if only once per week.

Miles is due to 'move downstairs' at nursery after Easter. This is a big step I remember, and temporarily caused Jody to need more sleep and regress with her potty training. Given that Miles still reliably sleeps for 1.5 hours every afternoon and isn't even close to thinking about considering using the big boy's toilet, I wonder how the transition will affect him. It won't' affect me in the slightest, given that he'll be doing the same hours on the same days. But his love-affair with Miss Hoaureaux will have to end, which is sad in itself.

Last week he came home and confessed that he'd pinched another child. This is revolutionary; getting reliable information from Jody was like getting blood from a stone at that age; but he confessed the whole incident and told me who told him off, and what he had to do afterwards, and that it was wrong to do it. His whole story checked out with the head teacher too. She seems to think that he's actually a very gentle guy and it was just a one-off, which ties in with my experience of him at home, in that he is usually a little darling but has an occasional aggressive streak that shows itself when cornered. I'm not going to waste time feeling sympathetic for his victim either; I don't expect it was unprovoked!

This article (Mummy is bad), courtesy of Octavia, is scarily apt in places. Of course I don't feel like that all the time (wouldn't I have employed an unendingly patient supernanny by now if I did?), but there are times ...

I was looking across at the table next to us at the zoo on Sunday while we ate lunch. For us it was one of those rare times (though mealtimes have the greatest likelihood) of complete calm in the family, as the kids consumed their admirably healthy and fascinating snacks from their cardboard lunchboxes and we tucked into slightly less fascinating fare. On the next table sat a couple of families with a handful of toddlers the youngest of which was a little boy who appeared to be celebrating his 1st birthday. There was nothing unusual about the scene; he was sitting in his high chair with a terry towelling bib on, half of which was obliterated by mashed potato. The rest of the potato was on his chin (mixed with a healthy portion of dribble), on his lap, or on the floor. From time to time he would pick up another spoonful of mashed potato and smush it into his chin or his bib or partially into his mouth. He would also squirm frequently, wanting to get down and screeching a bit. On the whole I think he was quite a well-balanced little kid who didn't seem to need much attention (his older brother was the one having the proper tantrum), but in watching him I was entirely reminded of how much I dislike that stage, when the kids can't communicate except through a series of grins and shouts, and exist only to be dependent and make a mess. Being in the zoo also made me wonder if any other baby animal is quite so helpless and pathetic for quite as long. No.

It's entirely different when you have your own children of course. You don't believe they're as messy or dirty as they appear to others. You aren't repelled by the daily bodily effluent from every oriface. And you are blinded to the grot by your overwhelming sense of love, protection and pride in your progeny. Geniuses they are. And clean, beautiful ones at that!

Very nice weekend, hangover notwithstanding. A 90 min run on Saturday morning to get the metabolism going (was going to do hill reps but found myself too tired and lethargic to do more than 4, turning it into a base endurance run instead), followed by a morning at the Natural History Museum with the kids, Roj and Sven (while Charlotte worked). Big jewels in the Vault, big dinosaurs (Miles was very scared of the T-rex), and lots of other fun stuff. I popped into the Wildlife Photographer of the Year exhibition at the Jerwood when Sven disappeared to Kew Gardens and Roj took Jody (and Miles) to Jody's swim lesson. Appreciated the photography much more than last year, for some reason: A less crowded gallery, and the chance to linger a little probably helped. My favourites were a picture of a little bird singing its heart out and making smoke rings in the cold dawn air with its songvoice breath; and a picture of a massive icebreaker ship with - in the foreground - a row of arctic-clad humans with long lenses clustering around an emperor penguin to try and get a shot, which made for a wry and meaningful commentary on the interplay between man and the environment. Also loved - as usual - the 'pattern in nature' type shots, preferring them to the standard animal portraits similar to those we've all seen a million times before.

Roj was working during the afternoon so I took Jody to Starbucks for a hot chocolate treat after picking up a Cote de Boeuf from The Ginger Pig (yum). We listened to a couple of women laying into a man in Starbucks when he pushed the daughter of one of the women in, sitting in her pram nonchalantly licking at her cut lip (not too serious) and sporting some minor dabs of blood down the front of her otherwise spotless primrose wool coat: "Leave you with her for 5 minutes and see what happens!" I felt sorry for the guy; what toddler doesn't biff herself on the see-saw from time to time?

Came back and made a roast beef dinner for Sven and Charlotte. Tried out the red wine decanter Roj bought me for my birthday last year. Then tried it out again (we were mesmerised by its pouring efficiency!) Then opened the port. Hmm. Well ... they don't visit very often and we had some very runny tasty Rustique to finish off. Who can blame us?

The over-indulgence led to a rather poor night's sleep though; I have an internal alcohol alarm clock which wakes me invariably between the hours of 3 and 4am if I've had too much booze the preceding night. So from 3:36 this morning I was obliged to lie dozing in bed, refusing to wander around the house and faff around on the computer as I usually do. Hence felt like death-warmed-up in the morning.

Still, a brisk walk through the park with Sven, Miles and Jody (Jody on her bike again, as per the day before), and a morning at the zoo was enough to awaken the senses. Most of the animals were dozing and sheltering but the giraffes and the butterflies were well worth seeing. And ZSL does do nice victoria sponge!

Back to complete normality next week, including Jody's first ballet lesson on Tuesday afternoon. Don't know quite how I'm going to manage it, but I'm sure it'll be worth it. If she can stand the pace.

At some point I need to start training too. It appears that my application to the Fred Whitton Challenge (application via Sven's friend who drove Richmond Cycling Club's applications over to the Lake District when the sportive opened its entries last Tuesday (and thankfully so, as they closed out in 5 hours via their website)) has been accepted. Hard Knott Pass here we come. Better install that compact crankset then!

I was so sad to send Jody and Miles back to school on Tuesday! I had an absolutely lovely few days with both of them after Roj started his new job on the 2nd. I kept it purposefully active to contrast with their imminent life in the classroom. Thursday we met up with Louis and spent the day in threatening snow on Hampstead Heath running and cycling (Jody), sitting in the buggy (Miles), or pushing toddler-laden buggies (me, obviously) with bike hooked over the handles up steep hills and feeling like I got a very good workout! Very lovely day notwithstanding toddler tantrums (Louis), overtired babies (Theadora), knee accidents (Jody & Louis) and hunger (me).

Friday we cycled through Hyde Park to the Science Museum with Milo & co. Lovely to see Jody and Milo cycling so enthusiastically - Jody now almost as proficient as he on her bike. The Science Museum was heaving though, the pathetic sandwiches were apallingly expensive (£3.20 for a sliver of cheese and meagre pickle on two slices of square bread with no butter), and we had to get back for Miles's first nap of the week or he would have been climbing the walls. So we cycled back, hills and all, and I even let Jody ride on the pavements, because she was being so competent, with me glowing with pride behind her!

Saturday Roj disappeared to a Gears & Tears offroad duathlon somewhere off the M3 (which he enjoyed far more than the last one, being somewhat fitter and pacing himself much better this time), and the kids and I spent the entire morning in Paddington Gardens playing on long-forgotten climbing frames and swings with a smattering of little friends coming and going - and their mums of course, which kept me interested too!

Sunday I did another Surrey Hills ride with the Serpentine group, which was good as usual, although more eventful this time with punctures, mechanicals of one sort or another, lost group members, routes curtailed by ice (Thames Turbo guys had encouraged us to avoid a lane on which 8 of their members had come a cropper), and then finally 2 high-speed falls on an icy downhill for 2 of our guys, resulting in holes in brand new lycra and bloody thighs and elbows all around. Nice. I was up ahead with the pair of riders at the front of the group (drafting as usual - I am destined to watch buttocks for the whole of my cycling life), so we missed all the action but enjoyed our little race up to the top of Box Hill. Where I realised I'd left my tea and flapjack money at home. Grrr.

Nice ride. Could have done with more food and more miles but what can you expect from an early January Sunday in the single degrees C?

I'm now aching for more events in these early months, and less and less inclined to go for triathlons. I'm sure the first one will get me motivated for it, but as that doesn't happen til mid-April, I'm going to stick with the bike until then. And perhaps a half marathon to judge my pace since the only number I have to go off is for the first half of the White Rock Marathon in 2001 (1:55:26). My motivation to swim is on the wane again too, after a good few weeks during the SwimforTri lessons and a good week in Lanzarote. I need to get into it again before all of my hard-won upper-body strength disappears.

On Monday, I was back to child entertainment, with the morning spent again in Paddington Gardens and the afternoon on bikes in Hyde Park. Note the plural bikes: as it was the first time I successfully got Miles on the Like-a-bike because he's normally too reluctant to even try it. And he was so good! He got the hang of the technique immediately; putting all his weight on the saddle and just propelling the thing with his feet. I couldn't let go of him because he wanted the reassurance, so I held on to his jacket between his shoulder blades but at times I felt no weight in my hand and could just as well have not been holding him. Absolutely brilliant! I'm so relieved as I really thought he wasn't interested, but actually he spent a good hour on the thing, without wanting to get off and without wanting to be carried. We must have covered at least a couple of miles, so I'm chuffed to bits. It beats a buggy any day!

Alex arrived on Monday evening to stay for a couple of days while working in London. Lovely to see her, despite drinking too much on 2 successive school nights (that's that resolution shattered then), and having to put up with incredibly overtired and overexcited kids who just wanted to crawl all over her.

Despite missing the first spin session of the year on Tuesday, I've managed to fit in a bit of good training, notably a 10-rep session up Primrose Hill (no stops) on New Year's Day, the aforementioned Surrey Hills ride, my first long run (2hrs) up to Hampstead since injuring the muscle in my bum, and a great transition work-out in the gym today with 10 minutes on the bike followed by 10 minutes running, repeated 3 times and done at tempo/lactate threshold heart rate in order to train the legs to run off the bike. Given that my last rep on the treadmill was a good 1km/h slower and 5bpm higher than the first, I think I have some work to do! Good though (except I forgot my towel so couldn't swim afterwards, but I wasn't too hard on myself since I managed to surpress an overwhelming urge to take a book to Starbucks for a couple of hours instead of doing any session at all).

I'm pretty tired now though, with the early mornings that the school run necessarily entails. Looking forward to the reprieve at the weekend, and to seeing Sven and Charlotte down in London. Weather's going to be crap though, sadly, so we'll have to invent interesting things to do indoors that avoid our capital's hideously overcrowded places of interest. Or we could just open a bottle of red and talk about gear ratios!

Happy New Year!

It's good to be back in London at last after two successive weeks away. Lanzarote was amazing and Shropshire Christmas was great, but the relief of getting back into the routine, and being master of my own home, is tangible.

Thanks enormously to my parents and to Nana for creating a Christmas wonderland for the kids though. Lots of fantastic presents for both of them (and for us!), lots of gorgeous food and child entertainment all around (in particular the classic indoor bouncy castle experience that fills Nana's entire sitting room and gets Jody practising perpetual motion, and the more organic experience of seeking out worms in Ratlinghope). Roj and I managed a few bike rides and runs (notably a very wet road ride with Sven on the morning of the 24th including a partially successful ascent of the Gliding Club route, and a very muddy mountain bike ride/race up the Long Mynd forestry track on Sunday).

We also enjoyed meeting Will and Pippa's very cute addition Charlie, on the 27th; and catching up with Milly and Graham on the 29th over some very nice Tokaj desert wine, delicious cheese, and the ubiquitous oversized coffees. Yum.

And now it's 2008 and we're in a much better position than we were this time last year, which began in our dingy rented mews house, continued with much refurbishing pressure, a missed ski-ing holiday because of chicken pox, and general household stress. The year certainly improved as it went on (not including the minor windsurfing-accident-glitch), with me finally getting the chance to get fit again (a work in progress), both of us doing a few different races, and the kids getting stuck in to their respective schools.

And now it's time for Roj to start in his new job at PIC, a role which should prove more unpredictable and challenging for him, and a change he's been looking towards to for the last 4 years at least. For me and the kids it's back to normal; Jody to school, Miles to his 3 mornings at nursery and me to the challenges of juggling the domestic routine with a burgeoning training schedule.

This year I resolve to de-prioritise my time on the computer (how many times do I pick it up to 'send a quick email', only to get thoroughly distracted and lose whole hours). I resolve to organise the many bags of uninteresting paperwork that lurk behind doors in this house, and to finish the curtains for our bedroom that I began many moons ago. I'd like to continue to explore (gradually), new culinary territory and perhaps hold back on the consumption of wine which has rather taken over December. I also want to make more effort to keep in touch with good friends, incorporating the odd evening out maybe, if I'm not getting ahead of myself!

But in the long run, as long as the children (and Roj!) are happy, the household is running smoothly, and I have enough time to maintain a reasonable level of fitness, I will be content.