#@%$!

So, here it is. If I type it quick it might not seem so bad. I've only gone and sort of injured myself. I know. What the flippin' 'eck have I gone and done (I hear you virtually exclaim).

I've been dreaming about this week off for ages. A week full of blissful gentle running. A week of sleeping in, eating long breakfasts, slowly recovering from my 20 miler with gentle joggy ambles along countryside paths, clocking my marathon mileage under blue skies in bright, shining daylight. The 20 on Sunday was a great run; an indication of some good prep despite the awful winter and the short training phase this allowed. The race feedback had set me up nicely, hungry for these final 4 weeks of mileage before the taper. I'd planned just easy running, no 'sessions' at least until this weekend. I was so good I even missed a run on Monday as we travelled back 'up north'.

So on Tuesday, a seemingly innocent happy jog on gentle trail turned into a run from hell. Or perhaps being a grown up I should say that it 'ended badly'. Yes I dramatise but I had that nasty-prickly-ripping-pain feeling of a muscle starting to tear and realised my left hamstring, (which had seemed very happy when we set out), had decided to have a major grumble. I think I've got myself a little muscle tear.

It's not a big one, but enough of a problem to halt any running action. I haven't run for 3 whole days. I've iced and stretched and generally done everything possible. Yesterday was a tester; a jog around the track whilst M did his reps. I managed to squeeze out 4 miles with a slight tug of discomfort. I'm now hopeful that I've avoided the worst but will have to carefully build back some miles with less and less time remaining. I'm so frustrated I could kick myself in the head, if I didn't think I'd risk another tear (probably in my right hamstring). 

So, if this blog serves as anything it illustrates WHAT NOT TO DO when training for marathons. I'm the only one to blame. I'm rubbish at stretching and despite walking about with wooden legs all day Monday I still chose to avoid any time looking after these poor legs from which I demand so much. And I'm not getting any younger, evidenced by my first grey hair which I found on Thursday. Nice.

But things could be worse... 

1. I've still got 6 weeks left to do some running; 
2. I've now properly had a break to recover from the 20M race; 
3. I've had lots of time for other stuff (admittedly slobbing, watching films and moping about with a frowny face);
4. I've not actually broken my leg and had a bit more time for blipping;
5. I managed a little run yesterday. 

I'm sure there's more. Watch this space.

River Prance

I snuck in a daylight amble along the riverside tonight. After some late night working yesterday (work is very mad right now) I thought I deserved an early trip home to catch the last hour of daylight.

A fine clear sky inspired the rush for home this afternoon and lit my slow but steady amble along the river Wharfe. I've some residual problems with the injury site (or more aptly named 'twingettes') but

And with less discomfort than last week. No racing for a bit longer but the pain is slowly dimishing. Hoorah.

Grate Stuff

Oops, nearly forgot to write some stuff after the bath tap emergency this afternoon... [lots of driving to all the local DIY stores this aft' (bumped into local running talent Matt Cox in B&Q btw) trying to find the right tap valve (we didn't) and now we're left with plyers instead of a tap...]

Our early bimble around Ilkley to watch a vets road relay  this morning was followed by my easy 5 miler; I was again inspired to stay focused and keep pluggin' away... but the comeback isn't quite as straight forward as I'd have hoped. The injury site is still behaving but I seem to be left with a strange feeling since the first set of physio treatment; one of running on stiff and quite sore wooden legs. The stiffness and discomfort in both legs from my 're-alignment' to address the 'neural gliding' is making running a bit of a chore, I've yet to feel easy and pain free which I'm left questioning. Is this normal? 

M tells me this is what everyone feels like after a long break from training. I'm hoping he's right and just hope it wears off soon. I'm 3 weeks back on very low mileage and I'm not rid of it yet. But I'm running again so I mustn't moan. Selby tomorrow, for M's 10 miler.

The Force

My first week back into what might reasonably called 'training' has felt like a string of tiring, achy and frustrating plods. But, I'm running and I'm loving every minute. The legs still feel borrowed from someone else (a person made of wood) and I can't believe how slow I am but I'm back where I belong; peeling away the grubby work skin and getting out, breathing the cool and clean outdoors air into my lungs. It feels wonderful.

I'm feeling inspired and as hungry as ever to get back my race legs and so looked on longingly as the lean racing machine (M) led the way on our morning run. I've got some way to go yet before I'm snapping at his heels again but I'm feeling the force is near; the hard work ahead and a bit of patience will surely pay off..."Do or do not. There is no try" (Yoda).

Grey Day

I was hoping to at least to have a XC race to blog about this weekend; M was due to run the Northern relays today in Sheffield. Being office bound all day and staring at walls at night offers little exciting content in this Runningbear's life to blog about. Anyway, the men's V40 team fell apart leaving us both at a loose end for the day. So a bit of Commonwealth Games on the telly it is.

The running is progressing a bit. I've managed some jogging this week and so far all is okay, tight and sore but no worse for it. I'm encouraged enough to keep trying and perhaps try a longer one tomorrow. So far 7 has been the max. Either that or fiddle with some new photoshop functions. Fresh air is good.

Welcome Distractions

Running is still off the menu. What on earth did I used to do with my weekends?! There's only so much bike riding on the spot I can take. To avoid spiralling further into a running-less depression and to distract from the absence of the long run today, I've immersed myself all afternoon in re-organising my music collection. This began with the creation of a gym playlist to keep me sane whilst exercising indoors. It then got a bit out of control and I'm now another 9 albums richer (or poorer depending on your perspective). Anyway, I came across this gorgeous video during my virtual travels...

New Adventures of a Gym Bunny

After feeling even more useless at running after a physio visit on Friday I'm conceding defeat. I've joined a gym. Though the physio seems to think I can run, I plainly can't. Not without wincing or gritting my teeth and limping. So, no running allowed for a bit, at least until I get a second opinion on the problem. 

A trip to the local leisure centre was my fix today; the start of a gym membership. Get me!  I'm a gym bunny. I went for my first 'spinning' class. A strange combination of pedalling very fast then standing up a bit, whilst peddling to thumpin' tunes; it was like Ibiza on a bike.

The spin was swiftly followed by a spot of splashing about in the pool, complete with views of a giant blue tube, (water slide sadly closed for maintenance). Though the heart rate didn't get very high, the legs felt like they worked a bit without any pain in the wrong places. It's good to feel tired after days of inactivity. Keighley leisure centre rocks.

Wall Climbing

Nope, I haven't taken up a new sport (though I am getting desperate). I'm now becoming a mentalist after not running for 5 whole days. The leg remains gammy; after a cruel glimmer of hope and recovery it went bad again. 

So, even more cash spent on more treatment and I'm still not running. Bummer.

Pain Relief

So. I might have been getting a bit ahead of myself  there in supposing old leggy was on the mend. A longish run or two later and it's been very sore again since Saturday. I was even reduced to limping along the train platform again on Monday morning. So, Not Good. I've felt pretty miserable and sorry for myself these last three days; even the  bottom lip has developed scuff marks from all the dragging along the floor.

First thing Monday morning I booked myself a trip to the physio. M's prods at the sore bit of my calf on Sunday told me that it wasn't going to be pleasant. Thankfully this time I'd remembered to take a  pair of balled socks to bite my way through the agony. I presented myself complete with my left leggy promptly at 2pm for a proper shake down.  I was quite a brave soldier, accompanied unexpectedly by Coach Scobie who artfully mopped my brow. The treatment lasted over an hour and involved a whole range of prods and yanks, twists and contortions and searing, eye watering pain. However, after enduring the longest hour of my life  (could childbirth be this bad?!) it was pretty good news. 

The sore bits that I'd feared were giant balls of scrambled calf muscle  were actually just points of nerve inflammation. I have a 'neural problem' and it seems to have been put right. The relief from the treatment was immense; they work magic those physios. I was reminded yet again of the stupidity in waiting so long to see someone; I'd have saved two weeks of fretting and worrying if I'd just gone there in the first place. You now have permission to tell me I'm as daft as a brush. It's now lots of balancing exercise, neuro stretches and regular drills with training back to normal within the week.

Back to Business

I'm positively buzzing that we're already midway through the week and so far the leg is still working. Another bit of a leg test last night indicates that all is on the mend. Following no ill effects from Saturday's exploits I'd pencilled in another slightly tough run for last night; a few interval efforts on the grass. 

I sensibly avoided the track surface (get me!) keeping to soft, terrain I tested the leggy with a few intervals to replicate an 800s session. A bit of stiffness in the warm up soon eased off and once the intervals were underway there wasn't a peep from shinny. 

Despite the lack of pain I was gasping like an asthmatic warthog. It was a bit embarrassing as M strode on ahead of me, relaxed and barely breathing i.e. looking far too fit and easy.  Meanwhile I was feeling sweaty, blobby, lumpy and all wrong in Lycra. THANK GOD I can run again. Strange things happen to me when training stops. Where did my fitness go in two weeks?! But grumbles aside; it's so good to be getting back to the business.

Calf-Hearted

After enjoying some welcome running frolics over the Bank Holiday weekend I'm reminded of how good it is to be running again. Even more so with a return to the mundane business today; train-office-another train-another office-another train-home-eat-bed. I'm hopeful that I might be over the worst of the shinny injury and daily running can be re-inserted into the week's routine pretty soon. 

I plan to have another nursery training week to keep an eye on the leg though I’m thinking this may be less shin and more calf niggle now. I find these things so difficult to determine; having bulging calves of a stout footballer who knows what's going on in there. Plan is: no better by Friday = call to the physio. 

If anything the shinny issues have fired me up again and so I have whiled away a few hours over the weekend planning my winter training and racing. A nice 10 miler building to a half marathon might be a good start before considering more serious race goals into the spring. Jack Daniels has made a comeback on the bedside table and is re-lighting this running fire.

Shinanigans

For anyone holding their breath at my apparent recklessness with recovering body parts, it was all okay. After much stretching and icing and rubbing in funny smelling gels  for two weeks the shin was driven over to Carnegie yesterday (on a purple cushion with tassels) for a bit of a track outing. Saturday was a test to see to what extent the leg has recovered or if in fact I'd created the whole thing in my head, (I'm quite imaginative you see). M likened my approach to driving a car at full speed to see what parts fell off. Needless to say I rejected this analogy, (though knew in my head he was right). But I've been going a bit stir crazy not having a proper diagnosis and I just needed to know. I realise that seems a bit bonkers.

The plan was to warm up with M for a couple of miles and then potter around a few 400 reps and see how the change in pace felt. The spikes were left in the car boot and instead I stuck to some big, clumsy trainers to avoid any extra strain. The warm up felt fine, no tweaks though a bit of stiffness remained. By the time we were ready to work the legs felt well oiled. So, off we went around a very gusty track; working for 400m, recovering with a 90s jog over 200m. The combination of very strong wind and my shin caution brought me in at 78s per rep, a few seconds down on usual pace but respectable and a good stretch for shinny. It all went good but I stopped at 8; no point in overdoing things. There was no pain. Running back on my toes felt so good. It's now a waiting game; no more hard stuff for a few days just to see how everything recovers.  But I'm happy with that.

Track Test

Day 13, 9.42am. It's been a long two weeks trying to back off from training. I've successfully distracted myself from the annoying shin pain that emerged after my hilly exploits. I've been working far too much and fiddling with my camera in between. Blogging has suffered as it just serves to remind me of all those lovely runs I'm missing out on.

I've had suggestions of shin splints being the cause. I'm trying to ignore this possible diagnosis, though the fine and straight talking Coach Scobie would describe it as denial. I've been dutifully following his instructions; packing the ice and wolfing down the anti-inflammatory pills. I'm hoping the funny achy, tight and sore bit will recover quick. Each missed long run and track session is one step nearer to being the lumpy, unfit and sweaty animal that I remember last time I had to start all over again. 

I'm feeling panicked that all those tough sessions stacked up in the fitness bank; like fine and neat rows of colourful knitting are slowly but surely being unravelled. So, after a couple of weeks of taking it all very easy with only a test run or two I'm gonna poke it with a metaphorical stick and see what happens. M is on the track today, so I'm following. I won't be going full throttle but I will try a bit of mixed pace to push what the leg can do. It will end in one of two ways; hopefully no tears will feature. Wish me and the shin luck.

Friday Feeling

Day 4, 23.59pm. After four days of doing no running at all, ZERO MILES I thought I'd give the leg a chance to redeem itself and bimble around a small field at a snail's pace behind M. We ventured out onto the grass for a soft and flat nursery run tonight to see what would happen. My left leg didn't fall off. It didn't get any worse either. It was a bit sore but seemed to ease a bit after a mile or so. I'm feeling a bit optimistic that I might manage another outing this weekend and clock more than the 4.5 miles total so far for this week. We will see what tomorrow brings. I'm now becoming a wise old tree with all these mistakes to learn from.

Strain Pain

Day 2. 19.16 pm. I've spent a second day dragging my left leg around behind me as I tried to climb the work stairs or hurry to avoid being squashed whilst crossing the road. A rather sore and achey spot on my left calf has now evolved into a deep, hard and very sore lump. M's just worked a bit of massage magic on me but there's a residual lump of pure pain that's not just tightness but more likely to be a tear. $@#%! I'm RICE'ing as I type.

It could be just a day or two of rest and I'm hoping I can get back to some gambolling about by the weekend though I'll have to monitor the lump closely. It's really flippin' painful and I'm so annoyed with myself now for racing last Saturday. It's Burnsall this week for $@#%'s sake! I knew it was risky, so why did I do it!? 

Runners; they never flippin' learn.

Longing

After rather a lot of running up and down hills last week I've only gone and done myself a mischief. The cheeky short race on Saturday was followed by a bit of a stiff left calf on Sunday. Being the responsive, sensible runner I am ;) I scaled down my long run plans on Sunday to a 12 miler; a rather monotonous but safe route near home, run at a very pedestrian pace. Anyways, despite my efforts to be good I've set off tonight for a pleasing jaunt around Bolton Abbey with M to find  that my leg won't work. It seems to have decided to go on strike and I've a funny sensation that's lingering even after I've warmed up; a bit of an escalation from yesterday.

So, tonight I was a bit of a sad and lonely onlooker as M trotted off along the river whilst I looked longingly on, with rather sad puppy dog eyes. I turned reluctantly back to the car, limping dramatically and feeling rather sorry for my theatrical old self. Poor me. All pinkies crossed I can massage it back to do the business at Burnsall this weekend.

A Boiled Bear

I hate to think what someone might have googled to land on this post... It was a tough session tonight with a blazing sun and mile efforts to get through. A tough 16 miles on Sunday followed by a seeing to from Team GB physio Alison Rose at Carnegie on Monday left me feeling a bit bruised and less perky than usual. The calf wringing was eye-poppingly painful and coach Scobie just sat there and grinned as I bit my knuckles!

Apparently I have a rather large difference in leg length and am lucky to not be frequently injured! The analysis of my form suggests this is what saves my bacon; I'm 'very efficient' but I need to build up height in my left shoe to give my right leg a bit of a break. Funny to have not discovered this until now...

So, somewhat overheated and niggly I managed 10 in total tonight with a few mile efforts thrown in. A good session if a bit slow but Saturday at the track will more than make up for that. I am SO getting into this speed work and never want the summer to end. Ho hum.

Three Dirty Letters

It's been a slightly miserable weekend after what was a very tiring week. An easy 5 miles on Friday left me feeling a bit human again following a tough week of training as well as work. I was almost recovered enough for the Yorkshire Champs XC at Wakefield so M & I made the trip over to support club mates. I'd promised to turnout for the ladies team and the pace would do me no harm even on wooden legs.
After a couple of miles warm up I was feeling reasonable if not entirely fresh and quite up for the 6k lung burning chase around the muddy but sunny parkland. My right foot had other ideas. The course kicked off with a fast and furious 400m before a steepish climb to a muddy ridge with a fair stretch of camber sliding to the right. I was still adjusting to my spikes, having raced so little XC this winter and my right foot then had a sulk. The little blighter tweaked big style as I skipped then half hopped along the mudslide before the sharp left and straight descent to drop back down and rejoin the start for loop 2.

After a bit of foot pointing and scrunching of my face M got the picture that I was not good. On my way around loop 2 I picked up the pace again but then hit the same mud slope; the foot tweak was very sharp this time and caused further hopping and cursing. I lost 5 places then hopped to a halt. Not good. Runningbear DNF! I hoped I'd never have to write those dirty letters. I hung my head in shame and disappointment as I trudged back to the tent, right foot in tow.

It's a strange feeling not finishing a race. A feeling I hope I won't have to repeat. Needless to say, after waking up to more snow this morning, the wobbling plans for a long one wobbled and lost balance altogether. A brief test on flat road confirmed that said right foot might cope with even ground. I stuck to a safe treadmill run today; 18 miles shorter than planned with a steady 6 miles but better be safe than sorry, right?

Pain In The A***

After the frantic preparations for night classes and exams on Monday these last couple of days have been a wee bit lazy... the last two perfect mornings have been alarm free with an easy jog before or after breakfast followed by some lolling on the sofa, complete with a saved up film or several episodes of some quality telly drama. A spot of lunch and a feeble attempt at chores has been followed by a proper run of some kind for the remainder of the afternoon. Today was a steady 8 miles, out from home with a wiggle around Ilkley and back. It was one of those flowing, easy and natural feeling runs today on a hilly and windy route. A healthy sub 7 min/mile pace was the average which felt about right after the intervals toil of last night.

Tonight, a bowl of spag bol, another film (I think I might be a filmaholic) and then a bit of bum cheek massage should finish off the evening nicely. It's tough but someone's gotta do it. Poor M has endured another day of cycling and rowing on the spot on a machine; he's a real trooper.

Tough Cookies

Missing out on Sunday's race was tougher than I'd thought. It felt strange to not be on the start line along with everyone; hoping for that half marathon PB to kick off 2010. I played it safe and have instead spent the last couple of days mooning about the house like a lost lamb, wishing my niggles better and eating too much comfort food. An easy run on Monday was niggle filled but gratefully less so around the Achilles. A good decision then.

To add to our woes, Monday night was the first week of our college assessments; there are 5 of these to come, last night being an optional practice. We all opted to be assessed and the pressure to pass was tangible. We all lined up in our stiff, scratchy and rather ugly navy dentist style suits, complete with ugly matching clogs. This was our first chance to lay our oily hands on proper paying punters. As the lights dimmed the floaty music led us into our first massage exam; the tutor tiptoeing around each one of us, clutching his clipboard, watching for exposed toes or limb crushing moves. The hour flew by as we tensely recalled our body routine, carefully counting the minutes massaging toes and arms. With 7 minutes for legs and 20 for backs I was terrified of exposing a forgotten boob or bum cheek with all the tension.

I was all done at 8pm. The tension was massive as we saw our clients out and awaited our results. With a grand drum roll...we passed! I still can't believe it. A great start to a week of holidays. No more frantic routine rehearsing in the car. It's the real thing for the next few weeks but if I've passed one I know I can do it again. We'll soon be proper massage therapists. Though I don't think I can give up the day job, it might make us a bit of pocket money...

So, back to running and today was a return to some quality to test the legs with the hope the Achilles was behaving. A 1k road circuit with a flat start and a killer uphill finish was the session of the day. With no company this week the times were down but the heart rate high enough to call it VO2 work. A total of 6 reps with 90s recovery brought the session total to 9 miles and some very wobbly Elvis legs by the end. Fingers crossed I can keep the niggles away.