DNF but not an unhappy one

Today was the Harewood House half marathon. As I mentioned yesterday, I didn’t have the pre race nerves I often have in the run up to any organised event. I was a little more anxious this morning but nothing too bad. Nerves kicked in when I saw Kath’s Facebook post.

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We set off shortly after 8am, got there for just before 9am, went to the loo, had a wander around. It was cold, really cold! Kath bought herself a coffee and we sat in the car for 20 minutes or so. Then I went to the loo (again, obviously) and then we bumped into another Run1000miler Stuart (Hi Stuart!). It was lovely to chat briefly (and to now know that he had a great run and was lucky enough to see deer – how brilliant!) as we all stepped from foot to foot to try to stay warm(ish). When Stuart went to drop off his jacket in his car, we walked around the grounds a little trying to stay warm. Then it was time to line up and set off. I took my fleece off and passed it to Kath and then I was off.

I was quite happy with my 2 minute run, 30 second walk intervals. The field we were running through was springy and I giggled. I settled in at the back of the pack. The views were gorgeous, there were red kites circling above, the sun was coming out. We swept left and had a downhill road section. As I slowed for my scheduled walk break, my calf tightened. Really tightened. No, no no. Just no I thought. This can’t be happening. Briefly I thought about what Kath would say if I rang her now having to pull out or what I would say and write. The tightness had barely eased when the next run beep came. I ran anyway. It was niggling and tight but I kept going. Mile 1 had come and gone, Mile 2 wasn’t far behind. I sort of felt ok but the calf niggle was, well, niggling. I’d been running quite well uphill – I’d just been sticking to my 2 minute/30 seconds where they fell but around mile 3 I decided to stop trying to run them and nurse the calf. Instead I ignored some of the walk breaks on the downhill.

So after the first 3 miles I slowed down considerably aware that my calf would need nursing round the course quite carefully. I was ok though. I soon lost sight of the next runner in front and there were a handful of people behind me but quite some way away so for the next few miles it felt like I was alone on the course – in fact it was like that until I briefly joined the 10km route around 8 miles. In a good way. In fact I loved it. I saw rabbits and maybe a hare but it could have just been a big rabbit, it moved fast. I saw lots of little birds and whenever I came out of a wooded area into open fields there were red kites to watch. What stunning creatures they are. The views are amazing on this course. It’s hard to describe – just different at every turn, wood, fields, rolling hills, Harewood House (in all sorts of odd light), just stunning.

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I had a few good little wins along the course. I have mentioned my fear of downhill, slippy, icy etc before. I don’t think I mentioned I discussed this with therapist the other day – more on that another time – but some of the things we talked about really resonated today and instead of hesitating at the top of a steep grassy downhill I just kept moving; instead of trying to find a ‘safe’ way through a boggy bit I just went for it and bounced through and instead of whimpering at the sight of some of the muddy sections, I shrugged my shoulders and just went for it. And you know what, I slipped and you know what else – nothing happened. The world didn’t stop turning, I didn’t even fall over. I found the next somewhere for my foot and the one after that and after that and then the ground was less move-y.

So even though I had slowed significantly and was walking lots and my calf was very definitely  grumpy I had a great time. At some point just before mile 7 I suddenly remembered that there was a cut off time for the 8 mile water stop. I couldn’t remember whether it was 2 hours or 2.5 hours though. I had a quick look at my watch and decided that either way I’d be ok. Somewhere between mile 7 and 8 I noticed that I was hungry and also beginning to feel a bit tired. I hadn’t really felt tired until now. I decided that at the 8 mile point I’d stop briefly to get a bit of Kath’s home made cherry and almond flapjack (you need these in your life – I’ll share the recipe when I get chance) and have it with water. As I did that the last people still behind me came past in a mass of 10km runners whose route we were briefly sharing.

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Red Kite – Picture from RSPB

I walked until my flapjack and water had settled. I felt better. I had a little jog and did my best impression of a dressage pony through a boggy muddy bit and power walked up the hill and jogged down the other side and kept plodding and then something changed in my calf muscle. It didn’t snap or pop or anything but the niggle that I’d sort of got used to changed to pain. Not serious STOP NOW sort of pain. Just an ‘excuse me, you’re pretty close to breaking me’ sort of pain. Hmph. Ok, no matter, I’ll walk a bit.

I walked a bit. I was now last, not by far -there were 3 people within about 15 metres of me, but last. I’ve always wondered what it would feel like. Honestly, it was fabulous! The sweeper was keeping his distance on the bike and I was left to my own thoughts and the views, goodness the views. I tried running a bit more. My calf protested. Ok. Well, I’ll walk a bit more. I walked until just after mile 9. Then I tried to gently jog a downhill slope and my calf said no and my hip flexor said ‘Hi, remember me, I’m here and you knowing that is probably not a good thing’. I made the decision. I called Kath to let her know that I’d be pulling out. I’d let the sweeper know already and he said that if I could walk the best thing would be to simply make it to the next checkpoint. I was quite happy with that really although I didn’t realise it was another mile to go. Throughout that last mile my calf didn’t get any worse but my hip flexor got really quite sore. As I saw the 10 mile marker I briefly felt like a complete idiot for deciding not to go on. It’s only the sheep loop, only a parkrun, only a distance I can easily do…. But it would have been idiotic.

I stopped at the drinks station just at the 10 mile marker (although my Garmin says I did 9.82) where there was also an aid station and I could get a lift back with one of the off-road ambulance vehicles. Thanks to James and Jonathan for the ride! I literally got a lift back to our car where Kath was waiting. I nipped into the first aid centre  and asked for an ice pack which I stuck down my pants onto my hip flexor for the drive home. Everyone was lovely and asked if I needed them to look at my calf or whether I needed treatment but I really just needed an epsom salt bath and some stretches.

As things are now I am happy with my decision and proud of myself for once in my life 28500259_915935378586611_1230085131_ohaving made a sensible decision. I don’t think I’ve done any damage. I think it was a useful reminder that my calf muscles need much much more and consistent strengthening and stretching. Ideally I’d also like to be a bit fitter and trained on hills for next time – although I was happy with how I felt walking them (I remember not being able to walk uphill without setting off heart rate alarms).

So I might not have finished but I’ve had an awesome day. I enjoyed all of it – even the last mile really. I might have been in pain but it really wasn’t that bad, particularly as I didn’t have to try and go any faster at that point and the course was still spectacular. In fact it is a course that makes you want to do it justice. I’ll be back next year. Loved it.

 

The one where I don’t have pre-race nerves

I should be nervous. I should be anxious. I should be absolutely fucking terrified. I’m doing a half marathon tomorrow. And not just any half marathon either – the Harewood House Half Marathon which is hilly and muddy. There is a cut off time to reach 8 miles. I’ll be on my own because Kath’s ankle isn’t ready for hills and mud yet.

So why am I not anxious? It’s certainly not because I’m well prepared. I’m not. I have no idea if I can do the distance – I haven’t gone anywhere near that distance for some time actually and to add to that I haven’t run in the last 2 weeks really. I was suddenly terrified and tired and busy and I just didn’t go. Always the way isn’t it – when I’d mentally benefit from running most I find it the hardest to get out there. Anyway, so I’m NOT prepared. I could of course just pull out and not go. But I want to go. I actually want to line up on the start line and see if I can get round. I’ll be setting my watch to run/walk and then I’ll just keep putting one foot in front of the other until someone tells me I have to stop or I cross the finish line. That’s it. That’s my plan.

I’ll let you know how I got on tomorrow.

 

 

Speed work in the rain

Speed work is not my favourite. I’m not feeling it at the mo. I look back on January and having enjoyed the running  – at least in hindsight. In February I’m a bit ‘can’t be bothered’. I’m running because I need to. But speed work, really?

I managed to programme my Garmin to do the 8 x 30 seconds sprints with 90 seconds IMG_8493recovery. I added a mile warm up and a mile cool down either side. It took me a long time to persuade myself off the sofa. I kept doing just one more thing. But eventually I pulled my rain jacket and my rather lovely road shoes on and headed out. I slowly jogged down towards the canal – about 13 minutes per mile pace. Then I started the sprints. Well when I say sprints what I really mean is ‘going slightly faster than usual’. I did my 8 sprints and walked in between to recover. I tried but my heart wasn’t really in it and I didn’t even find having to hurdle some ducks funny.

I did have one spectator though and it felt like having my own little cheer squad of one. A cheer swan. Once sprint 8 was done I decided to stop being grumpy and enjoy my cool down mile by walking along the canal, spending some time with the ducks I had been grumpy about and saying hello to some more of the swans.

There is something sort of bleakly beautiful about the canal on a grey rainy day. It cheered me up and by the time I got home I was ready to have another go at my inbox.

So another 3.2 miles added to the total. 32.6 miles for February and slowly closing in on the first 100 miles.

Just keep running

Treadmills and Mud

It has been one of those weeks. I mentioned in my last post that the black puppy has been hanging around and I have struggled with depression all week. I’m not all that good at acknowledging it and often don’t until it’s too late but running and writing about it seems to help me realise that it’s sneaking up on me. So I’ve tried to be careful, early nights, no booze, good food, lots of water, trying to reduce the caffeine. And maybe that has worked because I’m still standing. At the same time though I have too many unfinished things on my desk at the moment, I don’t feel in control and I am struggling to prioritise.

Anyway, after my 8 mile story last Saturday, I managed another 8 miles on Sunday. I woke up on Monday, opened an eye and slowly slowly moved a toe, then my ankle – nothing. Hm, ok. I sat up. Still nothing. But I ran 16 miles over the weekend – why does nothing hurt? The running gods work in mysterious ways, best not question it. I enjoyed my rest day. I was also looking forward to running on Tuesday. I felt on top of the world.

Tuesday I missed my chance. I just couldn’t make myself get out of bed early enough to run before work and by the time I got home it was slippery – the sort of slippery that doesn’t bother most people but makes me curl up in a ball and cry. No matter, I thought – I can use the treadmill at work tomorrow. Oh what an idiot I am.

Wednesday – meetings at the different campuses and then evening teaching. Basically a 12 hour day. Really the perfect candidate to take some time out in the middle and head to the gym. So that’s what I did. Here’s how it went:

  • Me: Hi, be nice
  • Treadmill: *raises eyebrow
  • Me: 5km – we can do 5km
  • Treadmill: *angrily flashing – programme your pace in woman
  • Me: Ok ok, let’s go slow – 7.5minutes per km
  • Treadmill: *sniggers
  • Me: *sets off running
  • Me: Why is the treadmill so uneven?
  • Treadmill: I’m not uneven, you’re wobbly
  • Me: Urgh, hate this, this feels tooo fast
  • Treadmill: *Sniggers
  • Me: Surely I’ve done a km by now
  • Treadmill: Hahahahahahaha – NO
  • Me: Urgh, can’t do it
  • Me: Oh ok, Bon Jovi ‘Have a Nice Day’, thanks Ipod
  • Ipod: You’re welcome
  • Me: 1.5 km. Really. WTF is this?
  • Treadmill: Get off if you don’t like it
  • Me: I don’t like it, I don’t like it, I don’t fucking like it but I need to do 5km and some hills
  • Treadmill: *sniggers
  • Ipod: How about Kelly Clarkson’s Stronger?
  • Me: Thank you, yes, that’ll help. Good
  • Me: Right, some hills
  • Treadmill: *sniggers. Are you sure?
  • Me: Hill repeat 1 – OMG; Rest – yay; Hill 2 – FFS
  • Treadmill: Oxygen?
  • Me: Fuck off – Hill 3 – that was more than 30 seconds up!
  • Treadmill: Nope
  • Me: Last hill – bring it
  • Treadmill: OK
  • Me: NOT THAT STEEP
  • Treadmill: Sorry not sorry
  • Me: Bitch. Right, 3km done.
  • Ipod: Excuse me but my battery is a bit low
  • Me: Ipod, don’t you dare die
  • Ipod: Sor…
  • Me: Stupid fucking electronic piece of fucking junk
  • Treadmill: Concentrate, you nearly fell off
  • Me: what do you care
  • Treadmill: I don’t. Wanna slow down?
  • Me: Yes, Yes I do but you’re not winning this.
  • Treadmill: *raises eyebrow
  • Me: 1km to do. Just 1km. Just keep swimming, just keep swimming
  • Me: Oh look suspected drug deal outside the building opposite – oh actually I think they’re just sharing sweets. Mmm sweets. Wonder if I have any chocolate in my desk
  • Treadmill: Stop wobbling
  • Me: Nearly there, nearly there, nearly there
  • Me: Done it!
  • Treadmill: 5 minute cool down
  • Me: Go fuck yourself, I’m off
  • Treadmill: Suit yourself but I’m telling you – cool down 5 minutes

So the 5km with the 4 hill repeats took me 40 minutes and 45 seconds. And every single of those minutes was pretty miserable. There just wasn’t anything fun about it. It felt like hard work, really hard work and it was so utterly boring. Anyway, I had a quick shower and got changed, did my teaching and headed home. I phoned Kath to ask her to pick me up but she couldn’t come out. She’d introduced her foot to a rabbit hole on her run in the morning and was in agony. So once I got home we headed for A&E where we spent the next 3 hours to find out that her ankle isn’t broken (thank goodness – she’s already walking almost normally for short stretches). So Thursday I was tired, really tired and every single bit of my body was properly pissed off with me. My ankles were so sore, my feet hurt, my lower back niggled, my hamstrings were more painful than post marathon and everything just felt achey. 5km on the treadmill seemed to have broken me – the running gods and their bloody mysteries.  Friday I was a little more with it but a bit tired and by the time I got home and my ankles felt like they might snap. I didn’t run thinking it wasn’t too bad because I was doing two long runs at the weekend anyway.

Saturday I felt like I had been hit by a truck. I don’t think I ever really woke up. By the time I’d got up, helped Mum buy a new washing machine and then done our shopping I was ready to go back to bed. Running just somehow didn’t happen. Today I was going to have another go. I woke up quite looking forward to it and then between getting up to get a cup of tea and taking it back to bed to come round, our road was covered in snow. My heart sank. I can’t run in snow. I thought I would just see how it went, made some porridge and went about my morning. Eventually it cleared and looked nice out with the road clear and wet rather than snowy and icy. I was stuck on the sofa though. I didn’t think I could move really. But I did. I put my gear on and decided I’d just see how I got on, no pressure for miles. I really enjoyed the first 4 miles or so. I was happily plodding along looking around and was lost in my thoughts yet not really thinking about anything. Then I had to make a decision – carry on along the towpath into the mud or turn around. I have mentioned before that I am really struggling with slippery. It’s not rational and it’s not a normal, healthy sort of fear. I actually panic, I freeze and hyperventilate. Anyway, I thought I’d practice. I decided I would try and walk a section. Just as a crossed under the

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Me, Sleet and Mud

bridge into the muddy bit it started sleeting like mad. I stood for a minute, gathered myself and then walked as purposefully as I could. I didn’t stop, I kept moving forward, at times my instinct was to freeze and it was stupidly hard to keep moving but move I did. After about a third of a mile or so I turned and headed back. I was happy with that. I had managed to negotiate a really muddy stretch without having a meltdown. (Yep, I take my wins where I can get them).

I started my run/walk again and realised that I was getting quite cold and that I was starting to feel a bit miserable. I’d had enough. I decided to stay true to my promise of not being miserable and the #MyRunMyRules philosophy. I decided to take the next bridge off the canal and head for home. So I set out for 10miles but I’m happy with my 6.5. Only 9.6 miles of running this week. I was a bit disappointed with that when I put it on the chart but given that getting out of bed has been a win this week, I’ll take it.

Oh and Sunday Weigh In – who gives a toss! No idea. Haven’t been near the scales.

Happy Sunday.

An 8 mile story

Yesterday I mentioned that I think we get (even more) judgy of each other in January. Well I think we also get judgy of ourselves. I have struggled and struggled and struggled to remember that comparing myself to other people who run is less than helpful. I see other people’s stats on strava or on FB posts and I judge them and I judge me. I see them as runners, I feel crap about my running ability… But that’s changed a bit.

I think one, possibly unintended, consequence of joining the #Run1000mile Challenge last year when there really wasn’t a hope in hell that I’d get there was acceptance of different running. In that FB group there are people who routinely run more in a month than us mere mortals usually do in a year, there are people who will have nailed the 1000 miles by spring, people who run up mountains like I run up molehills and there are some who can actually run downhill (I know, weird, right). Then there are those who run marathons, halves, 10ks at speeds that look closer to my 5k PB than anything you should reasonably expect over those distances; there are people who race, people who don’t, people who think 10 minute mile pace is a nice easy run and then there are – wait for it – people who run slowly. People who are amazed and ecstatic that they have managed over 50 miles in a month, people who are slow, people who are building up distance, people who are just starting, people who have started several times, people who have been running forever, people just doing it because it might just be possible – people a little bit like me.

The group supports everyone, we celebrate all successes and I think the people who make that group special, who are always there commenting are people who really understand that running is personal, it’s our own private rollercoaster. We all got on that rollercoaster for different reasons but once you’re on it’s one hell of a ride and that ride is different for each of us. It can be about speed or distance, about climbs, about challenging terrain, about weight loss, about physical health, about mental health, about getting out and seeing the world, about racing yourself or others, it can be about anything you want it to be. And it doesn’t always have to be about the same thing. I had no idea running could be like that – I presumed that runners run to get faster and go further and chase PBs and beat others in races. That presumption shaped my perspective for a long time but slowly slowly slowly I am learning that it’s my run, my rules. It’s funny because I have used exactly that line so often when people have asked for advice on their running – like if it’s ok to take walk breaks or whether that’s cheating. Your run, your rules. Why didn’t I ever realise that this is also true for me?

So recently I have tried very hard to not compare, not to others and not to what I could do at the height of Dopey training in the second half of 2015 or what I once did somewhere on a particularly good day. I have tried to forget about pace and distance and I promised myself that running was always going to be a safe and happy place free from judgment and self-loathing. That’s important because I run mostly for mental health and if running starts to impact negatively rather than help, well then I’m in serious trouble – there’s nowhere else for me to go. It’s sort of working. I’ve said before I try and judge ‘good’ when it comes to a run based on whether I enjoyed it and/or saw something cool along the way.

So this was quite a longwinded way to get to my 8 mile story. Here are the stats – look at them and think about what you see, tell me what you see if you like – then I’ll tell you the story of that run.

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So you might see slow (ish) first 4 miles but fairly consistent pace and then it all falls apart. Mile 5 pace drops significantly, mile 6 recovers just a little, one last push maybe before crashing out completely and having to walk the remaining 2 miles home. Yep, well if I look at those stats in a few months time, I’ll probably think something similar (which is why I’m writing about it now and will add a comment on strava too).  So here’s my 8 mile story:

I didn’t really want to run. The black pup has been hanging around wondering if it can be bothered to come and pounce and I’ve rather been hoping it might not find me on the sofa (of course in reality, it’s the depression that’s keeping me on the sofa but stick with me). It was also sleeting. I was scared the canal towpath might be slippery. It wasn’t. So we set off to run across to Bingley and feed our friend’s cats and then run back. 4 miles there and 4 miles back. The first 4 miles were great. For the last few weeks I have mostly been running 1 minute walking 30 seconds; I changed the intervals today to run 2 minutes and run 30 seconds. It felt good to be running a bit longer, my feet and calves were ok with the increase and while it definitely felt harder, it also felt comfortable. The first 4 miles are therefore actually just awesome and about 45 seconds per mile faster on average than I have been doing along the flat – without trying, without being miserable.

At half way we had a few minutes rest obviously as we sorted the cats and I stretched out
my calves. They were ok but just threatening a niggle.

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Then we set off back. Mile 5 was great but included the Bingley Locks – 3 and 5 rise and while I ran up the 3, I needed a slightly longer walk to recover and there was no way I was running up 5.  Mile 6 I started to struggle a little but this was close to the furthest I’ve run for a while and I wasn’t struggling in the sense of needing or wanting longer walk breaks or even stopping. I suspect I did slow a little though and then decided to try an new footpath to head home and ended up walking a bit to get onto it and then walking a bit more as it got steeper.

Mile 7 then – well mile 7 was up the muddy footpath and across a couple of muddy fields and then an section uphill on the road. I am struggling with muddy. It’s not normal. I don’t even think I’m scared of falling – I’m pretty well padded all round – I don’t know what it is but it’s panic inducing. It’s far beyond a healthy respect for the conditions and not wanting to fall. So not rational. My instinct was to turn back or to curl up in a ball and rock, or freeze and cry. I didn’t to any of those, I kept moving forward, very slowly and with the odd whimper but I kept moving. It took a while to calm down and then we tried a little jog again. Then came the footpath between two estates – muddy of course – so panic set it in again and I just had to keep moving forward – slowly but surely. I got there.

A last little jog and final walk up hill – done. Longest run this year – and for quite a while. I have also already run more this February than I did in the same month last year. So my 8 mile story is a really positive one – 6 good miles of running and 2 miles of facing fears and battling through. I seem to have banned the pup to the hallway too. So let’s not judge our runs by the stats – they don’t tell us what really happened out there.