Monthly Archives: April 2009

Not idling

Honest.

Despite having been beaten by the hair gel of Monsieur Andre (seen his time, hope he walked, it’s a tragic waste of an entry. Rubbish.) and been made jealous by Adele (Fit Artist) for getting it done, my days haven’t been wasted.

The calf is having the odd twinge in all sorts of odd places now, so I guess it’s well on the way to healing, but Stelling Minnis is looking over as far as a competitive time is concerned and if  6 miles is going to hurt it again, it may be i’ll have to watch the others and cheer. For the first time ever, i’m being sensible about it. Yay! So, my efforts have been towards getting the bike suitable for a ride to work.

Last week, I bought some road tyres, pumped the suspension up to hard tail status and rode the 8 miles in on Wednesday. All uphill, it took 36 minutes, without wanting to arrive worn out for the day. Coming home took 30 minutes with the same effort. That’ll be the hills, then. But the tyres are ace, my carbon footprint is a shade smaller and I felt good, despite my leg feeling sore all day Thursday (not silly, you’ve overdone it sore, just a “go easy on me, i’m not healed yet” sore.). So this week, i’m planning to ride in on Tuesday and Thursday if it all feels ok. Oh, and if the weather’s reasonable, of course.

Oh, and the weights are being hurled around every other night, as they should be, which i’ve missed since the running took over. I feel better for that already.

So, today I took myself off for the self prescribed skydive and it was good. Very good. After nearly crashing the motorbike on Friday evening, the weekend turned out well after all. This time in 52 weeks, it’ll be another tale. Hopefully of a well earned, satisfying time.

Royal Parks half is booked for October, I don’t know what else to aim for, so maybe i’ll play it by ear and throw in some late entries as the summer wears on. After I start running again, of course. Roll on Juneathon.

Oh, and the mince pie consumption is still on course. As is Cathy’s, especially after I made her 12 more last night. That’ll nearly last until she moves down.

Walk of Shame

Tomorrow, i’m afraid, i’ll be giving up.

I’d been keeping my pathetic hope alive today that I might still not waste a winter’s training by being able to bury myself to get the marathon out of the way. Well, “out of the way” it certainly won’t be.

There’s simply no way i’m going to be able to place one foot in front of another for 26.2 miles next week, no matter how many drugs I might consider taking to get me there. My attempt at a run this evening had almost stopped before it started, but not wanting to accept that the pain was real, I carried on for a few hundred yards before giving up and coming home. Why does a calf muscle tear on a training run so close to race day when it’s done so well up until then?

Bastard.

I’m gutted. Fit Artist has shown me the way to do it. Good luck to her especially. As will several thousand others, all of whom seem to be capable of not cocking things up. Even Peter fucking Andre is going to prove he’s better than me. My God, i’m going to have to cut off my testicles in shame. Being beaten by an antipodean, coiffured, pop prancing twat just because my leg’s weaker than his hair gel. The shame.

Still, as I stroll to the post office to post my “sorry i’m a fuckwit, but i’d like to defer until next year and hopefully be more capable then” form, i’ll be planning my races for the year. I just hope I can get some sort of running ability for the 17th May and the Stelling Minnis 10k, my favourite ever ever ever race, but judging the speed of recovery, i’m doubting it. I’d settle for a 50 minute jog just to be able to get there.

Damn. Cock. And balls.

At least my blog name doesn’t refer to running; I think i’ll start to list things instead. How about times i’ll want to rip my leg off over the next week in jealousy at everyone who can run? That’ll be a long one to kick things off…

One mince pie. 12.5mm rain. One despondent individual not going to be running the FLM ever. Hope Virgin don’t fuck up next year and the run still goes on…And the weather had better be fair next week – I feel a day’s skydiving coming on to take my mind off things. I’ve not jumped for fear of damaging the leg further on landing, but a good blast of adrenaline may just take my mind off what i’m missing.

Heaven’s above, the timing of my fantastic girlfriend’s move away from London was even planned around a convenient base for my run. Still, at least she’ll be here shortly. The year might not be a write off after all.

And I guess i’m guaranteed not to put on any weight for a year at least!

I’m so depressed, I don’t even fancy a drink. Poo.

Run

Yes, on the 16th April 2009, I ran.

The days at work have been horrible and this afternoon, it was all capped off by the walk around the back of the site coinciding with a nasty bout of pain in my calf, which lingered and developed into an ache as the afternoon wore on.

So in fear that I may lose the chance to defer London if I can’t make a decision by Saturday, I decided that tonight i’d stretch, warm up and jog, just to see what happens. I know it’s a day earlier than planned, but i’m scared.

Even more so now.

The plan was a short jog to see if I could make things run smoothly or in a comfortable style. To see if things hurt or are improved tomorrow at work enough for me to go for a proper jog tomorrow night. A chance to see where my recovery is.

I did everything as planned. My Garmin recorded a massive 0.23 miles. A whopper of a loop. Everything hurt more than I even begun to imagine it would. I couldn’t find a happy rhythm or pace or style. I carried my leg every inch of the way. But I got out. Without drugs or strapping. And at the second, i’m regretting every stab of ache (sounds odd, but the pain is stabbing but not in the style of a stabbing pain, it feels more achey) i’m feeling.

But i’m also about to stretch and want to see how I feel tomorrow.

I’ll update then. And also will make the decision as to whether I defer London until 2010.

The prospect of another winter training? Oh cock. Is it ok to be scared again?

Anxious

After physio yesterday, it was a bit of a surprise when my leg hurt this morning with little stabbing pains throughout the ankle and calf, so stretching was first order of the day.

Now 20 minutes when i’m thinking of the thousand things I want to catch up on isn’t the best way to start off, but at least it motivated me to a productive day, what with a motorbike ride, worktop glued up, shelves made and fitted and ended in an hour on the mountainbike.

Not quite as planned on the bike front, since the little stabbing pains made me stay on road (manualling and wheelying and hopping still put too much strain on the leg and cause a wince – I don’t want that to coincide with committing to clearing a tree stump or anything, and know I can’t stick to a path, so i’ll stay on road for a while). But after half an hour, I stopped, massaged for a couple of minutes, then turned for home, making a nice hour ride with no real drama.

Certainly, I needed another good stretch, but the pain seems to be reducing, i’m sure, but with 2 weeks to go and not being able to run for a week, i’d be lying if I didn’t say I was still not sure if i’ll make London. One second I will, the next I won’t. I’ll have to wait and see what tomorrow brings, I guess. After all, it’s only 2 weeks since it tore and there are two weeks still to go, and i’ve come so far up to now. Everything I own is crossed in hope. Well, not my testicles, apparently that’s a hospital job to get it sorted, but you know what I mean.

Even if I have lowered my target time.

I’ll settle for making the start line and a finish. Whatever the time, as long as i’m still running. 26 miles is a hell of a long way, after all.

A mince pie and 3mm rain today, the first for April.

A mixed bag

A quiet week on the exercise front has been anything but in all other respects.

My birthday meal was reasonably successful, Sunday was spent in the garden planting tomatoes on (all but 2 appear to be ill, so new seeds have been sown this evening and are in the propogator) and getting set for spring, then Monday was off to Cathy’s.

A mild bout of decorating her second room rapidly escalated into completely re-building it in 3 days, which involved 9 sheets of plasterboard going upstairs. Now, i’m not entirely sure how that runs with my muscle repair, but I think I carried it off safely and my stretching seems to be going ok. It felt very sore yesterday, so today’s trip to the physio was eagerly anticipated.

And as 4.30 came round, I was reminded what proper pain is as she found the spot straight away and made me wince like I was a week ago. Which is nice, since it does give a check that the pain has massively reduced. With only 2 weeks to go, she’s not sure it’ll be sorted fully since the calf does take longer than quads and other larger muscle groups, but the nerves are with the tears apparently, so when the healing’s done, the pain will stop, simple as that. And if there’s that much less pain in general use, the damage has reduced.

I’ve still got to wait a week before i’m allowed to run, and then only a slow short testing jog, but that’ll do. It’ll give a week of testing runs before I commit to exploding it around 26 miles, which will be all I need to make a rational decision. But until then, i’ve free reign on the bike. So tomorrow, i’ll be out in honour of Jo and Phil as they head east. Only i’ll be enjoying a bit of off road mixed with some tarmac no more than 6 miles from my doorstep.

Only big cock up of the week has been going for 3 days without mince pies.

Maybe that’s why my leg feels a bit sore. Time to stretch. And keep the mantra going that I will do the marathon, even if it does ruin me.

Physiotherapy

So today was my second visit to the physio. I went in having been icing, not stretching, and treating it to full rolls from heel to toe when walking, all as instructed. I’ve been over using it compared to instructions, having to walk the job a fair bit, but clearly it’s been good use since she was pleased with progress.

A session of ultrasound, then some electric stuff was passed through it via sticky pads (felt like worms and that under the skin, with added convulsions when I told her I couldn’t really feel it when I could, but wondered what it could really do…well, I was paying!) then a massage was carried out, all with the advice that it carrying on like this will get it better in time for London.

Which is nice. And on Saturday, I can start stretching and go for a light bike ride (around 30 minutes, nothing too hard), which means a visit to the parachute club to renew my membership, but not jump – i’m not about to risk further injury now. Not even on my birthday weekend.

I’m just hoping I can start running before my muscles completely disappear. But must be patient. A word I must remember over the next few weeks, I fear. Especially while running on the 26th. Correction…running slowly on the 26th.

Thank god for mince pies.