On the hoof.....

Well, the mystery is finally solved. Almost a year to the day since my calf went ping I have an explanation for what happened, and cleared up a few other running mysteries besides.

Quick recap: I''d stopped running after a worrying niggle in my shin and sore feet. Something wasnae right. My physio Pam referred me to Donna the podiatrist who said I needed a biomechanical assessment. So I went off to see Pam at the Abbey Hill Footcare Clinic.  Pam got out her rulers and measuring things and put me through my paces. I love to see good diagnostic skills at work and Pam's are truly awesome. I was fascinated as she tested out different hypotheses about what was going on and held onto every word as a picture began to take shape - Sherlock Holmes had better watch out.

The punchline is I have  'forefoot equinnus' in both my feet and I've had it my entire life.  Those of you of a classical or scientific bent will immediately discern that I am a horse.  Well not quite, but  like a horse, my hoof is naturally in a toe-down position with my heel off the ground. It's something to do with having deformed metatarsals and it can't be corrected or aligned, it has to be accommodated. So when I run I take a lot of pressure on the fore foot which the foot can't absorb properly because it's an odd shape.  Having equinnus foot basically means I am permanently running up hill. Here's a drawing.

As one writer says 'it is like having a built-in doorstop pushing you backwards and jamming your knee backwards.' Equinnus can cause calf strain and achilles, hip and piriformis problems as the body adapts.  You would shudder to know at the amount of treatment I've had over many years to sort out hip and lower back pain - and it was probably all related to my feet.

I now know that this is why I prefer to walk round the house on tip toes - (I'm a toe walker apparently, it sounds quite exotic doesn't it?). I thought it was because we lived in houses with noisy floors and I was embarrassed to thump about. Now I know why hills are such a struggle, why I trip up and why I can't stand up for long periods - those youthful demos were hell. 

The great news is that it doesn't stop me running, I just have to learn to work with my horses feet and adapt accordingly.  

 Pam advised me to go back to cushioned (neutral) running shoes to reduce the impact that my odd foot shape has to absorb. No more barefoot running, no more minimalist shoes. No more cute little pumps with no foot support and back to shoes with a small heel.  I have to make sure that I have the laces done the right way to take the pressure off the arch (ignoring helpful sales assistants with great ideas).  I just need to factor in the hoof shape and reduce the impact on my feet as much as possible.

So I'm back on the Brooks and my most cushioned hilly socks with as much compression as I can decently get away with in public. I'm building up the runs gradually and so far so good, everything is calming down. Ten good miles so far this week and feeling fine, and secretly enjoying the lashing wind and rain. The sea has been amazing if somewhat destructive.

Equinnus foot is not rare, so if you have a very high instep and a history of unexplained injuries, it might be worth checking it out. I found Physio Blogger's website helpful. 

I can't believe I've got so far through my life without knowing this. What's interesting is  that it's the Chi Running that helped me solve the mystery.  Along with the minimalist shoes, Chi running meant that I ran naturally and so the right bits hurt.  Because I was paying attention, I got things sorted without causing too much damage on the way.  

So I'm back running on the beach and loving it. Looking forward to some good running in between the celebrations - if I can drag myself away from the boys! Here they are giving me a bit of help with the ironing

I hope you're all setting up for a lovely festive season full of all the things that make you and yours happy.  Take care and have a great time!

Suex

Pussy Riots!

Well folks, meet the next generation. The new kittens have arrived and they've already taken over the kitchen and our lives. And this is just day 2!

Please say a great big "Hello and Welcome" to  Masters Dougal and Hamish; a couple of braw cats who hail from Auchtermuchty and came home to North Berwick via Newburgh.  Dougal is black and white and Hamish is white and black. They're a couple of months old and they're cutest things on four paws. They are as cute as the cutest cute things on planet cute.

We're knee deep in feline paraphernalia - cat nip mice, bouncy spiders and a brilliant play tunnel. My arms are scratched to pieces and  everything is going to wrack and ruin. I'm typing amid a cacophony of crashes and squeaks as they re arrange the kitchen and race round like mad things before collapsing into that deep deep kitten  sleep. I'd forgotten just how wonderful kitten energy is and how hard it is to think of anything else when they're about.

We picked the wee darlings up on Friday from their foster Dad Chris, a lovely man who gave them a great start to life. They were Dougal and Fred, but we thought Fred wasn't quite right and so went for Hamish from the Radio programme. They are lovely affectionate moggies with the sweetest of natures.

Their first night, we spent the evening on the kitchen floor helping them feel at home. Dougal, who's big and beefy and looks so confident, immediately ran for cover via a rather tight squeeze behind the fridge. I don't think Ali will ever recover from seeing Dougal jammed solid. We reckon that might be life number one gone; Dougal already has the air of a cat that gets into scrapes, something I'm sure you cat lovers will understand (and a good few parents too!).  Hamish, who's slight and delicate was out and exploring very quickly, but he kept his wits about him and kept his distance at first. Hamish was happy just playing with his ball of foil brought with him from Fife.

By the next morning, Dougal was out from under the sink and under the radiator and Hamish was totally chilled.  As we head towards the end of their second full day in their new home, their characters are beginning to emerge. Hamish is the quieter, more observant of the two. He starts things off and then Dougal joins in. Hamish is very like the lovely Bute; he looks similar and has already taken to the bit of climbing rope that Bute loved to play with; he has amazing reflexes and is very fast. Dougal is a serious purrer and very vocal. He can jump and is already trying to jump up onto surfaces way beyond his ability (famous last words!). They are playing with the intensity and commitment of Olympic athletes and it won't be long before the bird table is at risk.

So the next generation has arrived; there are cats once again in our house and all feels well with the world. Kittens for Christmas - what a lovely lovely thought.

No running this week, but lots of spin and training. My feet are calming down a bit and I think I have an explanation for what's been going on. Watch this space!

Hope you've had a good week and that all is well, whether you're running, walking, jumping or just keeping your head above water.

Take care

suex

The non running runner: embracing the still calm centre

Life without running continues and yet I have travelled further in the last few days than I have for ages and ages.

It's now over a month since I last hit the streets, with no clear end in sight.  I should be feeling frustrated but I'm not.  I now accept I can't run and may not for some time.  It's a case of  going with this experience to see where it takes me.   If I try to work it out in my head it doesn't make sense,  I want to fight the idea that I can't run. But if I don't think, if I just go with how I feel,  I have to be honest,  I'm beginning to enjoy the space left by running.  I feel guilty typing that - how can a runner enjoy not running? Am I still a runner when I don't run? Does running in my mind count? I don't know. All I know is none of that matters at the moment - everything is as it must be.

I'm still no nearer to knowing what 's stopping me running. It's complicated so needs a more detailed analysis to get to the bottom of it all. My feet are sometimes painful and I need to rest them, but on every other front, I'm making great progress. My hip flexors and quads have loosened up nicely and I can go up and down that roller with barely a grimace. I'm sweating cobs on the bike and the elliptical trainer and spinning to a band playing. I'm swimming and stretching and getting down and sweaty with Jillian Reynolds. I spend a lot of time lying on the sitting room floor, tied up in multi coloured resistance bands, twisting myself into peculiar (and painful) shapes to stretch some muscle I didn't know I had. And I'm still walking on golf balls. Every muscle in my body is getting back into position and balanced up.

It is so weird to say this, but not running feels right. All sorts of interesting things are happening in what used to be my running time.  It began to get clear for me at yesterday's yoga class. Now I've not been to a yoga class since I lost weight, I've been too busy running and doing the things I couldn't do when I was overweight. But yoga is great for the feet and balance and muscle strength, so off I went.

It wasn't just my body that got a work out, the gentleness and calmness of the class gave my head a real treat.  If I had any doubts about being in the right place, they disappeared when Lucy focussed on feet and how we need to care for them and appreciate them.  What more proof did I need that this is exactly where I needed to be? The sense of being in the right place at the right time was very powerful and as the class went on, my anxiety and tension disappeared and I accepted the moment. All was well with the world, I was at peace.

I'd forgotten that yoga isn't just about yoga toes; it's about creating a space within which things happen and we emerge stronger. Lucy, the yoga teacher took us on a journey to the  still, quiet centre of our being.  I began to realise how rarely I stay still and listen to the silence these days. I am always moving, always listening to something or reading or analysing. My head and legs are at it non stop from the moment I get up til I hit the sack at bedtime.  Running, especially my long runs, gives me that space and I was missing it. I was getting out of kilter, out of touch with me. The peace and stillness of the yoga class was like cool water when you're thirsty and with all my charging around being busy, I'd been too busy to notice just how thirsty I really was.  Time to take that chill pill.

I now know that not running is the right thing for right now.  This time will pass and I am determined not to waste the opportunity it gives me to explore other paths and other options.  I'm quite excited to think about how I might take this stillness and connection into my running, but I have a bit more work to do before I'm ready for that!

As the saying goes 'this too will change'. In a couple of weeks I hope I'll have a better idea of what the problem is and so how to fix it. In the meantime, who knows where not running will take me.

Whatever you're up to. have a good week and stay strong and safe.

Take care

Suex

Feet don't fail me now!

There was an article recently in Runners World about how many runners get injured and then injured again. It was quite scary. Well, despite everything, I just became one of that statistic.  Yes, I have an injury, a running injury and I can't run.

Now of course I'm fed up. Today has been beautiful; glorious sunshine. I've been here knowing I should have had one of those wonderful long sunny runs today. I can see that run in my mind's eye and I sort of wish it was snowing so I don't have to think about it. But apart from mild frustration, I've been fine; this is nothing like how I felt last December when I tore that calf muscle - a lot has happened since then.


It looks like I have a compartment injury in a tiny muscle just above my inner ankle.  It's caused by repetitive strain and I guess that poor little muscle just couldn't cope when I upped my mileage and was up to 4 runs a week - without a niggle.  A gradual increase in using minimalist shoes and more trail running all added up. I'd got some sore muscles but nothing that worried me. The I got a niggle. At first it was just sore and went away as soon as I slowed down.  It came back the next run, but pain wasn't too bad at all and only came on at about 5 miles. I could have quite happily run through it, but there was something about it that wasn't right. My instinct was to cut the runs down and see what happened. After a week's rest it came back a little bit stronger at 4 miles. I walked home.

My physio Pam had a good look at me, and it seems the problem is in my feet. Since my injury last year, I have to say my feet just haven't felt the same. They'd lost some spring and mobility but I never really paid attention, I thought it would just come back naturally. As a result, those little tootsies weren't absorbing the impact of running properly and it was going up my leg irritating that teeny tiny muscle. Apparently some people just have this weakness and I'm one of them.  Looking at my feet with new eyes, I can see the arches are flatter and I now have an explanation of why my trainers felt smaller. Yes, hindsight is indeed a wonderful thing.

So, no running, but I feel fine about it. In fact I'd been thinking of taking a couple of months off and do more cross training. Well be careful what you wish for! The big difference this time is I can move, I just have to avoid impact. I can cycle, use the elliptical trainer, lift weights and of course do Pilates and Yoga.  I can keep up my exercise plan and do some serious cardio stuff til my quads scream. After last year's enforced immobility, I thank my lucky stars that I stopped running before I did myself some damage.

One of the high points of recovery from injury is when you can get off your butt and start doing things again. Luckily I only have to stop running, so I'm already on it,  doing some serious work  on my feet. The golf ball is in regular use on the old plantar, the roller on the ITB and good old Jillian Reynolds is back on the DVD player.  Yes, my life is full of pain and it feels good!

I'm not quite sure how long this will take, but the next step is to see the podiatrist to get a more detailed analysis of my feet and to keep doing my exercises, giving the leg time to recover. I may be able to correct the problem, if not I will need an operation to split the fascia. But I'll worry about that later - no point in meeting trouble half way on this one.

Despite all this, my spirits are high. I am sorting out a weak spot and I've a good chance of doing so because I picked the problem up early on, went with my instinct and stopped running.  We all know that running is about our heads as well as our legs and it was my head that got me into trouble in the past. But Chi Running has helped me think differently.  I didn't just run through the pain; I listened hard and made sense of what it was telling me. Sports massage and physio have helped me interpret the messages and take action. As a result I've the chance to nip what could have have been a nasty problem in the bud.

It's by pushing our limits that we discover our weak spots and they tell us how we can get even stronger. So I see my injury not as a weakness, but as a strength - it's  evidence that I'm pushing myself to my limits and a bit beyond.  Weakness would be to ignore the messages, to keep on doing what I'm doing when I have clear evidence it's not working; to ride roughshod over my poor old feet.  This is helping me feel positive about my not running; I'm taking control, re-creating the balance and getting better and stronger. When the next weak spot emerges I'll be ready for it, and  I'll tackle the next one and the next until I get as far as I can go.

So, no runs this week, but 3 hard gym sessions, lots of yoga and Pilates and I've done my physio exercises with true devotion.   Those of you who have used the golf ball and roller will know that this is not a pain free path.  But this is pain I'm happy to work through, knowing that it won't kill me; it will make me stronger.

Have a great week. Take good care.

Suex

Goodbye Vile Kyle, the monster cat from hell

If you'd met Kyle towards the end of his 17 and a bit years you'd have thought he was a real sweetie. Every day he walked a bit more like John Wayne and he purred like a Rolls Royce. Kyle in his dotage was a total darling.  But in his youth, Kyle was known, with some justification as Vile Kyle, the monster cat from hell.

Kyle as a kitten had brown curly fur and even more than his sister Bute, he was totally devoted to me.  He would climb up my dressing gown and snuggle down the front or hang round my neck purring in my ear.  Kyle was a great hunter and brought me many presents over the years. But he didn't go for mice or birds (well not much), as befits an island cat, Kyle preferred to fish. Kyle did a special kind of air fishing. He fished washing off the neighbour's washing lines. Socks were his favourite. You'd hear him from some distance away, a muffled yowl as he told the world about his prize and then dragged it through the cat flap. Underwear, children's clothes, a swimming costume, toys, tea towels, cleaning clothes - all sorts of things would be waiting for me when I got back from work.  When I could, I left the day's catch on the front wall  but I did draw the line at leaving out the calvin klein's he brought back once.

Kyle was also famous for being totally and utterly vicious even to my Dad whom every furred and feathered creature under the sun loved. Dubbed 'Vile Kyle' by my nieces after one of his more spectacular rages, I secretly admired his uncompromising commitment to living life on his terms. Mind you, I usually escaped his fury. How one small ball of black fur can scare the beejesus out of my Dad, my nieces and for a time even Ali, is beyond explanation.

It was partly his gimlet eye, partly the sharp and gleaming claws but what made Kyle truly awesome was his lightening quick reflexes. Kyle used to lash out from unexpected places at passing legs, arms, scarves, whatever was nearest. Of course I knew he was only playing. Even towards the end of his years, the vet had to move pretty quickly when he tried to cut Kyle's claws. I felt a glow of maternal pride that the old Kyle was still there. Ali always said I was like one of those women in East Enders, who after another emotional battering would say 'he's a good boy really'. And of course Kyle was, underneath it all.

Kyle used up his quota of lives and a few more besides. He was at death's door on the vets table at least 3 times, but kept coming back stronger than before despite failing kidneys, a weird cold type thing and a spot of the old dementia. We'd almost begun to believe that Kyle might just live forever.

Alas dear Kyle only lasted a few weeks longer than his sister Bute and we said farewell to him a few days ago. His time had come when he couldn't get up for breakfast, his legs had finally gone, probably jumping off the settee. The house is now cat-less, or at least it's supposed to be. I guess after 32 years with a cat round the place, it's not surprising that I still hear cat chat and the little chirrups and squeaks that populate the feline/human interface. The terrible twins have left a fair bit of fluff, fur and happy memories behind them.

The day I brought the terrible two some home from Rothesay, I swore I wouldn't love another cat like I loved their predecessor Damian.  But of course I did, they stole our hearts. It is better to have loved than lost and Vile Kyle and Cute Bute are absolutely part of our family history. Tales will be told of the vicious, almost indestructible cat with the awesome life force and the wicked sense of humour, the indefatigable Kuyle.

So farewell my furry friends. You are missed.

Too teary to write about running. Take care

Suex

A little bit of help:

Okay,  Summer's over, the nights are fair drawing in and work's on a mad rush before Christmas.  Things are hectic. Getting out of bed in the dark is hard work. Going out for a run in the cold is hard work. Resisting that chocolate biscuit is a real challenge. This is the time of year when the lure of the armchair is strong.  This is the time of year when my will power has its work cut out.

I've blogged before about will power; it's like a muscle, you can train it and strengthen it, but if pushed too hard it can get worn out. By the time I get home from work, my will power runs at a peep. That's when I get my reward for getting through the day (and they do say will power is linked to low blood sugar levels).  On good days or when the wind allows, my reward might be a run, or in the summer we go for a walk. But on the bad days, especially the cold, dark, wet winter evenings, my attention turns to cake or a slice of toast (or maybe even a glass of wine!).

So I was intrigued to hear about some research (scroll down a bit)  about how we might be helped to cope when our willpower tank is running on empty.  Psychologists in Aberdeen stuck signs in coffee shops giving calorie counts for different food choices. These are organised from the lowest calorie options on the left to the highest calorie ones on the right.  Next to it is a little note saying that if you want to eat fewer calories then you might want to think about picking something from the left hand side. A little reminder, a helping hand. Not a fact, not a lecture, just a little helpful reminder - a nudge. They picked left to right as apparently we have a small bias to things we see on our left so pay attention to the left (hmm I wonder if that works if your writing goes the other way...).

Anyway, sales of high calorie foods dropped and sales of about half (not all) of the low calorie foods increased. There was a shift from high calorie to low calorie options - a black coffee instead of that latte. And even more interestingly, when they asked customers what they thought, the ones who scored lowest on will power were more likely to change what they bought and many went for the lower calorie option. Hurray! A win for us, a win for researchers and a blow to obesity!

But never, ever underestimate the ability of us humans to do the unexpected.  The researchers found that some people just swopped one high calorie option for another. Instead of having that latte they had 3 chocolate bars - the same number of calories, the same unhealthy options.  They were all women. They were probably calorie counting and this was their treat. I think that's fair enough.

There's no doubt that with our busy lives, worry and stress pull us in a whole load of directions. In winter it can all be a little bit harder.  There's a lot of reasons given for the rise in obesity and I do wonder if our busy lives, lack of time and our many responsibilities drain our will power even more than in the past. Plus we have more temptations and choices and it's all too easy to go for the comforting treat. I don't think we suddenly have more lazy people in the world; none of the overweight people I know could be ever be seen as lazy. Busy? Juggling like mad? Yes! Lazy? Definitely not.

I know my will power varies a lot and not always predictably. A run can fire me up making me feel strong and healthy and I really (really) don't want to eat chocolate. But the next run really deserves that cake! An extra pound on the scales can set me back on track with vigour or send me straight to  the biscuit tin with depression.  I know when I was caring for Mum on top of a busy job I couldn't resist the chocolate treats I bought her to encourage her to eat something.

So if the researchers can come up with something that helps us remember that we do have a choice and makes us think for just a moment, then I think that's brilliant. A little note so we think twice before reaching for that bun when we're on autopilot and making lists about lists in our heads. It's not a nag. It's not a lecture. It's a helpful reminder for busy people with busy lives.

Talking of which, I've had another reminder this week. I've been in serious running mode. Despite the weather, I've wanted to run every day and do hills and tempo runs and just run and run. But on Wednesday I got a twinge in the area of my calf where I had an injury. So I've made myself do an easy run and take 2 rest days, even though the sun's been shining and I could have run (grrr).  Half of me feels like a sulky teenager, the other half feels strong and sensible.  I still did 4 runs, 25 plus miles. I feel good!

The Chi running is really helping me in so many ways, including my tendency to over do things. I wonder if it can help me sort out my tendency to overeat!


Hope you've had a good week. Take care

Suex

Mastery, or why we run in the wind and rain!

Yes, it's that time of year again. Temperatures plummet, winds blow, rain storms and yet we still lace on the trainers and head out to run. We begin to wonder if we are mad.

Why do we do it?  What gets us out of bed and running at 5am in the wind and rain?  Why do we juggle like mad to make time for that run? What on earth drives that kind of compulsion? Yes it's autumn and we face months of running in the dark.

I still can't explain why some mornings I leap out of bed eager to run even though it's blowing a gale out there and the next day it's hard work to even open my eyes.  My motivation to run is quite resilient; it can survive all sorts of weather, niggles and pains, busy-ness, even abject failure and exhaustion.  And then on that lovely sunny day, with a breath of wind to cool the glowing brow and with no pressing engagements blocking that lovely long run on the beach, my mojo takes off and runs screaming for the hills. As I watch the fleeting shadow fade into the distance, I tell myself I'm tired or need an extra rest day, but the truth is, my mojo has deserted me. Mercurial and magical it has buggered off. Luckily it's back again after the first mile or so running back and forth, urging me to follow like one of those bonkers dogs on the beach.

I've been reading a book by Dan Pink, an American psychologist who's got some very interesting stuff to say on all this.  Pink says that the more we feel in control, the better we perform in the long run. What sets us on fire Pink says, is being able to make choices about what we do, with whom and how we do it; and that we get a massive boost from mastering a skill or completing a task or gaining knowledge and having a purpose. Now he might be talking about the workplace, but I'm just as much a human being at home so I reckon the same rules apply (why do so many people assume that being a worker and being a human are not the same thing!!!).

What makes it all great is that we're out there running because we choose to.  Nobody makes us, it's me that gets me out the door at 5am. I choose my goal. I choose my training plan. I choose my challenges.  Over time as we learn we begin to hone our skills and technique; we get better and wiser as we learn our craft.  Running brings many joys, but the thrill of mastering our craft, becoming a better runner is where the magic lives.  Can I get below 25m for that 5k? Just how long can I keep going at tempo pace? Could I really run a marathon? Our urge to run better, faster, longer transforms us as people and changes our lives profoundly and forever. We become better stronger human beings.

That urge is visible from the earliest days.  Watch a young children learning to stand, walk or read is to watch mastery in one of its purest forms.  It is pure magic. Those tiny humans keep going until they get there. They fall over, they get up and try again, they are not deterred. The look on the face of a child as it stands for the first time or takes a first step says it all:  I did that - me!  Mastery, that sense of accomplishment, the glory of achievement.  Many of the best things in life take hard work, discipline, failure, focus and perseverance.  It's a journey to a perfection we never reach, but that perversely is  what gives us reward and keeps us going that extra mile, pushes on to the next goal.

I've certainly been feeling that thrill this week. I've done another tempo run; but this week a little bit faster. Although I was tired when I stopped, my muscles told me I'd found my lactic threshold; it's amazing that that extra .5 kph had on my legs! That's a new boundary to push.  My long run was a bit longer than last week, but more important, it felt much easier despite a rather brisk wind. I could have run a few miles more and I'm sure that's the tempo runs kicking in.  A speed interval session (great spiky Garmin heart chart!) and a recovery run took me over 22 miles again.

Whatever you're up to, have a great week. Whether you run, swim, play the bagpipes; whatever your personal goals and challenges, may you find new strengths within you, master new skills and find great joy in your accomplishments.

Take care

Suex

right brain running

I'm not really one for planning and preparing.  I don't read instructions before playing with a new toy or gadget. In those away days we used to have, I was the one who just wanted to get on with it and work out what to do as we went along.  I've never had a career plan, I just went for interesting jobs in places I wanted to live. I follow the road less travelled and I can't resist taking a peek at what's over that hill or round the corner.  In my book, life is an adventure, you never know what's coming up, so what's to plan for? Life is to be lived on a wing and a hunch.

And then I took up running.

I started running in the same way I take on anything new in life, I just did it and then worked out what I was up to.  Every Friday when I was working from home to do Mum stuff, I'd go out for a run. I ran for as long and as far and as fast as it felt good.  Gradually I went longer, faster and farther. I added a hill or two. I simply went with how my body felt and soon I was doing 6/7 miles quite happily, running 10 or 15 minutes longer without clock watching. Then I started running twice a week and started pushing my distance ready for my first half marathon. I cross trained, ran when I felt like it and hadn't even heard of tempo runs. So far, so happy; free running, hippy hoppy bunny.

And then I decided to do a marathon. I started reading about training plans and pace and intervals and all the rest of it. I stopped doing what felt right, I stopped trusting my instinct and my body. I started following plans and schedules, my head took control, pushed my body beyond its limits, and as you know, it ended in tears.

This year has been about re building myself as a runner; using Chi Running to improve my technique, manage my need for speed and taking a mindful approach.   I've had no other running goal and have simply allowed myself to evolve and unfold through my running.   And it's working really well, I've never been happier or run better.

Out on my long run today I had a breakthrough. I was idly thinking about my runs this week, when I realised I was doing something really important, I was starting to reflect on my running.  I realised that this week, without planning it, I'd done an unintended tempo run. I found the faster pace quite a challenge but it felt good and I was much faster the next day. I was surprised how long I could run at that speed. More importantly, I'd caught my mind telling me to stop well before my legs were done.  I ignored my head and ran a bit further and got another 10 minutes at tempo. I could have done more, but part of the discipline is to know when to stop.

Next I realised I was in the middle of my longest run since my injury and again, without planning it, I was running at long run pace. It was a very different experience of running than I was used to.  As I trotted on, I began to understand why the long run has to be done slowly. How else are you going to know what it feels like to run for ages and get the mental stamina to keep going? The slow run meant I could run longer and it gave me very useful feedback on how my body was responding. I have some corrections to make.

I've made a commitment to regular sports massages as a way to avoid injuries and to keep track on how my body is working. I had a great sports massage from Lizelle at Physio Plus in North Berwick, the people who got me back on my feet after Christmas.  The combination of me telling her what I've noticed when I run and her massage skills and expert knowledge are helping me understand what's going on under the skin and helping me nip things in the bud. Don't laugh, but my sartorial muscle is playing up!

Gradually, my mind and body are getting in touch with each other and talking the same language, what I need to do is to keep reflecting, keep learning, give my head chance to catch up with my body.

I think the message is that my legs are ready to rock. It's time to start thinking about a challenge. Time to start pushing my boundaries a bit. Time to think about that marathon.  Time to contact my Chi Running teacher, Nick.

So a very rewarding running week. Four runs. 23 Miles. My longest long run and my first tempo since the injury. Yay!

Hope you've had a good week and that the week to come is all you want it to be.

Take care,

Suex

Farewell my furry friend

My heart is broken. One half of the pussycat mafia that runs our house is no more. Cute Bute has gone to the great big soft cushion in the sky and we're missing her. Who'd have thought that such a small bundle of black and white fur would leave such an enormous space?

I know at over 17 years old, Bute had a long and very happy life.  Bute's idea of bliss was to sit or lie in the sun until she could barely move or to sit on Ali's lap until his legs went numb.  She was one of the sweetest cats you could ever meet, a real little lady with the cutest face and an endearing manner.

Originally from the Isle of Bute, Bute and her brother Kyle were rescue cats, brought home from a day trip to Rothesay in a cardboard vodka box. They were tiny, fitting into the palm of my hand, purring away.  They spent almost their whole lives together, inseperable, but not always friends. One memorable time they were sitting by the open bathroom window. I heard a squeak; turned round to see Kyle had shoved her out the window. Luckily she was only one floor up and over a flower bed. Bute came in through that cat flap like a cat out of hell and sulked. Bute's sulks were profound but short lived.

The pussies settled into Stirling and even from her earliest days, Bute was tidy and neat. She got cleanliness and litter trays from the first time she saw them and always kept her long haired, silky coat pristine. Very rarely did Bute look less than immaculate, always photogenic; an Audrey Hepburn of a cat.

Timid and perpetually scared by anything new or unexpected, Bute spent a lot of her early years behind the settee or under the bedclothes, only venturing out when she knew I was alone. Her first time outdoors was memorable. Whilst her brother went charging off to explore the new world, Bute trod carefully, lifting each paw high into the air, trying to make sense of the springy grass. When a puff of wind blew, Bute jumped sky high; she always did have a good startle reflex that lasted her whole life.

Visitors frightened Bute, and not many people got to know her more than in retreat, sneaking out a door or under a chair; a tail disappearing through a doorway. For a lot of the time, Bute was just a lump under the bedclothes, where she felt invisible and safe.  I always wondered what had happened to make her like that.  But  Bute loved Ali and Ben, she knew when they were about she was safe. Sitting on their laps was like a throne for Bute and she sat there and ruled the roost. A floozie, through and through.

In North Berwick Bute spent a lot of time on the windowsill soaking up the heat of the radiator or sun depending on the time of the year. She and Kyle were often to be found flat out in the sunshine in the conservatory, staggering into the shade like holiday makers on a Mediterranean beach. Bute's little face at the front window was a welcoming sight to see after a long hard day at work - she always looked like she was posing for a feline version of Vogue.

Bute loved broccoli, porridge, yogurt and of course tuna. For most of her life she didn't miaow, she gave a little 'eek'. It was only in her later years when she got a thyroid tumour that Bute began to sound like a normal cat. For her tiny size, she could let her views be known very forcibly indeed. As she got older, her hips went, but she could still spring into the air to sit on Ali's knee; right up to the end she was up for her cuddle.

Who would think that one small bundle of fur could leave such a hole in our hearts and so many happy memories? But that's what happens when a pussycat steals your heart.

I did a run for Bute yesterday. A lovely sunny early run up to WhiteCraigs and back.  I cried a bit, I smiled a lot and I came to terms a little bit with things. When I came home, I was a bit further along my journey too.

Farewell Bute my little furry pal. Rest in peace.



Suex

New dawns and old habits

One of my lovely Twitter chums, John, was reflecting on how good it felt to get back into his routine after watching the Olympics; how he's a creature of habit, happier when things are normal. I know exactly what he means.

After the roller coaster of the last few weeks, we too are enjoying life at a calmer pace this week, having a bit of a breather and a very much appreciated one at that. There's something soothing and relaxing when life goes to plan and things are sort of predictable. We get up at and go to bed at regular times, sleep better and feel more rested. We eat regular meals made of good healthy things we want to eat that keep us fit and slim and our bodies balanced.  Chores, treats and runs can be planned and balanced. Even the thought of planning and predictability soothes the mind and calms the nerves.  You could almost believe there is order and predictability in  the world!

So whilst I have almost literally been running for my life the last few weeks, this breather has given me the chance to stop and reflect. As I looked up and took a metaphorical deep breath I realised that things have changed. I have a new routine. And it feels good.

To get through the days, I've been running more in the early mornings.  I was waking early and worrying or writing lists of things to do in my head.  It started as a 'why not run rather than lie and worry' run and ended up as 'run to start the day with a physical and psychological burst of all that is great about being alive'; living each day as a personal best.

I love the early morning when the world is in bed and I own the beach. Every run is different and special. And I know that the dawn chorus of Twitter runners are out there too. It's a great feeling that I'm out with my virtual family, my ain running folk all of us relishing the sun rising on our running.

At first I worried that I wasn't fitting in a long run, I've just not had a chunk of time to fit it in. But at the same time, I'm running more often,  and there's more than one way to eat a potato (my new cat friendly alternative phrase given the feline fun we've been having). On Friday I was working at home so I allowed myself a 5 mile instead of a 3 mile run. Voila! I increased my weekly mileage easily with 5 or 10 minutes added here and there. If I can't do longer I'll just do faster or hillier. What's great is the extra run is giving me a bit more flexibility.

I am dead chuffed. If I'd tried to squeeze an extra run into my routine when things were ticking along nicely, I'd have struggled. But along came a whole train load of crises to kickstart me into a new regime,  opening up new possibilities and the dawn of a new routine.

Whoever said that you should never waste a good crisis hit the nail on the head. Crisis, mayhem and chaos mean you have to do things differently and come out of your old routine and embrace the new order.  Suddenly, like it or not, you have to be open to new ideas and new ways of doing things, you have to adapt or go under.  It's a turbo charged spring cleaning opportunity to cut out the stuff that holds you back and needs to change.

So I managed four runs this week, 16 and a bit miles.  Two 30 minute-ers and two 5 milers, all but one in the early morning before breakfast. The 5 milers were the fastest runs, I think that might be the Innov-8s which are really superb to run in. I also a nice long walk with Ali today up to Dirleton for a lovely lunch at the Dirleton Gallery coffee shop - very well earnt.

The Edinburgh Festival finishes tomorrow. This year we managed to see 4 great shows, a personal best and a sign that we're getting a bit more balance in our lives.  Playing Politics, Suggs, Sandi Toksvig and Paul Merton and his improv chums really hit the spot when we needed something to laugh at. Next year we plan to do a few more shows.

So that's it for another week. We're all still here. Vile Kyle (black cat) has made yet another death defying recovery and is eating up the world's tuna stocks. His sister,  Cute Bute, is not quite as jolly; her turn for the vets tomorrow. Age does not come alone and I know that the outcome is inevitable, but every day extra is precious.

Wherever you are, whether you're mid crisis or in a nice comfy routine, keep well, keep happy, run strong.

Take care

Suex

Running from the heart

There are times when running is not about speed, distance, time, pace, intervals or even calories.

There are times when running is not about calves, quads or glutes.
There are times when running is only about one thing: being alive.
That's when you exercise the most important running muscle of all - when you run from from the heart.


The middle years of life are not what I'd expected. I'm much busier and I have more responsibilities than I'd expected, but that's fine, who wants to lie in til lunchtime anyway!  What makes the middle years a weird experience is that you're youthful and old at exactly the same time, equidistant between the cradle and the grave and both can seem equally clear at times. In the middle years, you're acutely aware that life is brief and precious and to be made the very most of. I understand the urge behind those mid life crises - do it now before you get too old!

Never have I felt this as much as I have this week. It's been a week of hospitals, surgeries and the vets as various two legged and four legged family members fell over (me and Mum); got scanned and screened (me) and helped through their final days (my pussycat Kyle).

We're all still here and in one piece, at least for now, but it's been hard going facing certain and uncertain doom. As well as the love of a truly good man, family and friends, the one big thing that's kept me going has been my running.

I've run almost every morning this week; early, before the day gets going and people start coming to the beach.  I've been waking very early and as the worry-worms began to invade my sleep-addled head something instinctive kicked in and I knew in my very core that I had to run. And not just any run, anywhere,  I had to run on the beach. Nothing else would work, nothing else would get through the day.

Most days, the mornings have seen a thick white mist, barely able to see my feet never mind what lay ahead.  Ghostly, mysterious, still mists that hang round the ragged rocks. Spiders' webs heavy with misty droplets, marine grass beaded with diamonds. Not thinking, just running; driven by instinct and the knowledge we hold deep in our bodies that knows what we need to do to get through.

Every morning as I ran, I began to feel strong, healthy, connected to the earth. My strong legs carried me firmly and confidently over the rocks, tip toeing between stranded jellyfish, splashing in the salty puddles of the departing tide, full of life. My arms powered like pistons, pivoted from the elbows.   My head lifted, my body straightened, my brain switched to 'I can'. As I run, I am strong. I am me.  I can do this. I smile at the passing heron and the startled curlews.

I trot back up to the house feeling normal, with a clear head and a light heart.  I knew that whatever the day throws at me now and whatever comes next, I will be fine because I am strong, I am a runner and runners keep on 'til the end one way or another.

On Friday morning when the worst was over, I ran in celebration.  The rain poured, the wind pushed and shoved and tried to send me home. But I ran. I took off the trainers and ran barefoot on the beach until I was drenched and my calves began to protest. It was blissful to be alive and healthy.

 I  forget about the science, the physical and biological things I usually focus on when I'm running. Maybe I ran out of an ancient human instinct to run from what we're frightened of, I was definitely scared and if I could have run away I would have. Instead I ran the demons out of my head and came home strong, powerful and ready to face whatever came my way.

Today Ali and I went for a long walk together from North Berwick to Gullane. The beach was very different today; sunny, warm, busy with children and dogs. We felt alive, youthful and happy, glad we made it through in one piece, glad we have each other.  As I type, dear old Kyle is curled up on the floor at my feet. His running days are over, he can barely walk a few steps now, but he has a warm soft bed, tuna on tap and lots of love.

I did about 10 miles running this week; one a barefoot 3 mile session.  My long run was a 6 mile walk to Gullane. I  went barefoot almost all the way and I practiced my Chi Walking.  I'm going to have a think about what running I want to do next week, but I won't plan too much as things still feel fluid. For now, my feet will follow my heart ands all will be well.

Have a good week, whatever comes your way I wish you health and happiness.

Take care

Sue

Olympic reflections

Wow, what an Olympics! I don't think I've ever enjoyed the Olympics as much as this year. It doesn't seem any time since that amazing opening ceremony and now it's all but over. The last pair of trainers will soon be hung up, kit stashed into the washing machine, bike spokes straightened out and things will get back to normal.

It's been as inspiring and exciting and wonderful as anyone could have hoped. Our athletes have given their all. Some have come out shining and victorious; others faced bitter disappointment and injury. But they have all made us feel very proud to be a human being, and in particular to be a human that runs a bit.

What courtesy, sports-personship, courage and commitment.  These guys aren't just great at sport, they are great at being human beings. We've got closer to the athletes than ever before and had an insight into just how hard they work to make it happen. As Mo Farah said after his double gold victory 'It's all hard work. It's been a long journey, grafting and grafting'.  There's an interesting article on this in Danny Drey's Chi Running blog on race specific training as done by Mo. This is the first time I've thought of our Olympians as human beings like us.  Usain Bolt's quote this morning about needing to find his motivation for what happens next shows that even legends need to fire themselves up sometimes.

I've also really enjoyed the little snippets of running science from Colin Jackson. Hopefully we're enthusing and inspiring a whole new generation of scientists and great coaches as well as athletes. We're now much more aware of the contribution that sports  science, psychology and coaching make to being a success. If you want to hear some great science on this, have a listen to The Naked Scientists podcast. My favourite bit is Sir Steven Redgrave saying that it was his mental attitude that got him his success. And of course we saw the teams of people that support them every step of the way. I never realised just how many folk are involved in creating champions; even the long distance runner isn't as lonely as she used to be. But that's great - how many things in life do we go through alone anyway?

This is also the first time I've watched the Olympics since I started running properly (well, maybe improperly!). I now have concepts like 'running form' and 'interval training' in my shiny new vocabulary. As I progress on my running journey, I've been watching the best runners in the world, looking at what great running looks like; trying to absorb learning through the TV screen.

I never used to think about how I ran until I got injured and got into Chi Running.   In Chi Running there's a lot of emphasis on maintaining your running form and alignment as you push your speed or distance boundaries. When I got my training from Nick, Soul in Motion, he placed a lot of focus on the need for me to work to gradually extend how far and fast I can run without losing my form.

There were races when you could see an athlete's form disintegrate as they reached their limits and their performance visibly dropped.  All of these top level athletes run at a fast cadence, they lift their heels high and their posture is usually great. Most of them use their arms to power them though I saw some messy arm movements. One look at those abs and arm muscles and you can see that they run with their whole body.

The very very best runners are wonderful to watch. They have a compact energy and fluidity of movement that is absolute poetry in motion and totally gripping. Mo Farah, Usain Bolt, the US women's 4x4 100m relay,  David Rudisha and Tirunesh Dibada have been particular favourites of mine. They run with a wonderful combination of power and beauty that is mesmerising; they make running look effortless. I hold those pictures in my mind hopping some of it will stick and transfer by osmosis to me too - well a girl can dream!

It's certainly been inspiring a lot of folk to get out and about.  I've never seen so many runners, cyclists, walkers, surfers and dog walkers out and about. People are turning up at work on bicycles from a bygone age. This is definitely the time to buy shares in bicycle shops - or maybe tyre repair kits.

What an amazing few weeks, what inspiration, what wonder. And next the Paralympics with more tales of courage, bravery and outstanding athletes. Then the Commonwealth games. Bring it on! I really really wish there was an Olympics for people of a certain age; a senior Olympics, especially for those of us who have blossomed in our later years. We need to inspire everyone to a healthy and active second half of live, not just the first thirty or so years.

I've had a great running week - 4 runs coming to 17.5 miles in total. A mix of one long run, a speed interval session and two runs just because I can.  My mid week very early beach run was blissful,  pure North Berwick gold; a run that will stay with me forever. The yoga and pilates have been a bit hard whilst my poorly paw heals, but I've been stretching hard to keep things working as they should do.

Have a great week, keep safe, keep well.

Take care

Suex

Tripping the light fantastic: Revenge of the Hills part 2

Oh oh, Sue's in the wars again!

On Friday night after work I headed down to Holyrood for the technical rehearsal of the NVA speed of light. It was really exciting watching the lyrca-clad ones marching purposefully towards the small village of tents on the parade ground. I've lost track of the number of times I've headed to this patch of grass for some event or another over the past 20 odd years.

We all sat round in a massive marquee. My group (white) was really great; lovely people with lots of energy and very friendly and chatty.  I was a mix of awe-struck and horrified by some of the ultra hill runner guys, but I'd done the rehearsal and training so I wasn't too worried; this wasn't being done at race pace! What made it even more special was that I knew one of the run leaders - the lovely Sarah who used to teach aqua aerobics at virgin omni.

After a pep talk from Angus, we changed into our light suits and headed off onto the hill, the air thick with the smell of manure and midges. Unlike the last time I did an NVA session, we took the low route up, between the Crags and Arthur's Seat. My group was doing a mid level path on the other side.  'No worries' I thought, 'nice dry path, no slippy grass - result!'.  Does that count as pride? Smug definitely, but pride? Well maybe given it definitely preceded my fall.

We'd run a few yards and were heading back down the incline at a gentle trot.  I was looking around thinking what a glorious night it was and how lucky I was to be able to run, when suddenly I was hurtling face first towards the path. It was a classic time-slowing-down moment. I could see the path getting closer, I can still see every pebble and every rock in my mind's eye. I thought I'd manage not to fall, I thought I'd get upright, but I fell, and with quite a thump. There I was splayed out like the chalk figure at a crime scene.

I picked myself up; I could walk; nothing too horrendous I could see.  Phew! I managed to jog down to the very calm and reassuring Medic Dave who regularly medics at running events and does Mountain Rescue. I was in safe hands.  I'd got a bashed cheek bone; a banged up knee, ripped leggings and a pretty deep cut on my hand where I'd landed on a sharp stone.  Oh bugger.

I felt ok and wanted to carry on with the run, but Medic Dave thought I might have some gravel embedded in my hand so packed me off to A&E. I felt fine to finish off the run but having been brought up by a nurse, I tend to obey medics. I'm glad I did, I think I was probably a bit shocked at the fall and I may well have had another fall when the adrenaline wore off and I might not been as lucky that time.

The next day I was glad I hadn't run on. My knee was really sore and swollen and I hurt in all sorts of places I hadn't noticed before. I slept for hours that afternoon, but I think that might have been the tetanus jag.  It wasn't too bad really. If I was going to pick a day to collapse in front of the the Tv, I couldn't have done better could I? Olympic golds non stop all day. Brilliant.

The biggest wound is to my pride. I was running on a path, in daylight, somewhere I've run before, not going fast and I took a skite.  But yet again, I met my nemesis on a hill. Hills are beginning to spell trouble for me - even the flat bits!

At least I came off as walking wounded (yes they do use that term!); and I have to say NVA had everything handled beautifully. I tested their safety procedures and I was very well looked after; it all went without a hitch.  I hope I was and am the only injury they have to deal with - then I wouldn't mind feeling a bit silly.

But what about going back up that hill for the main event later this month?  My confidence is a bit jangled and I have this sense that if I do the run I'll be pushing my luck.  It's good to get your confidence back, but is running on the hill in the dark the best way to do it? I'm not sure and my instincts are being pretty clear about what they think I should do. Maybe I should compromise and be a walk leader or support some of the wheelchair runners - but maybe that'd be placing others at risk!

I managed three other runs this week without taking a tumble. Short 30 minute-ers (I was saving my legs for the hill!). I did two on the beach (including some rock scrambling so I could practice rough terrain - humph!); one on the treadmill. All done without falling over.

Off back to watch the Olympics. As I type Murray is playing Federer but if I watch he starts losing points, so I'm doing this. What a week eh?

Whatever you're up to, keep safe, run strong.

Take care

Suex

Inspiring People

This week has been one of the most inspirational weeks of my entire life.  With the start of one of the greatest displays of feats of human endeavour on the planet - the Olympics - inspiration is coming thick and fast and I'm feeling almost drunk with it all!

On Wednesday I went to Milton Keynes for a Tesco Diets success story photo session. As I walked in the door, Julie and Claire told me that that morning I was going to meet Dame Kelly Holmes.  My jaw dropped, my brain went numb, Dame Kelly Holmes? There? In Milton Keynes? That morning? To meet us? Surely not! It takes a lot to shut me up, but I was gobsmacked.

But it was indeed true. Dame Kelly had come to meet us; celebrate our achievements; have photos taken and do a spot of Q&A. We sat spell bound as she talked us through how she trained, how she prepared, how she got through hard times and got those two gold medals. It was totally awesome and inspirational and I had to keep pinching myself, I was sitting next to an Olympic double gold medal runner!

This is nothing about being star struck or impressed by celebrity,  I'm really too long in the tooth for that sort of thing. No, this was one of those moments when you meet another human being who has done something remarkable. When faced with adversity and challenge, they fight back and overcome. They make things happen. They build on what they have survived to make them stronger, better human beings. They work to make the world better for others.

Dame Kelly Holmes has been an inspiration in our family and she is to many people; not just runners and not just those of us who have had an injury. She never gave up on her goal, she gave 100%. She made it.

I was also inspired by the lovely TescoDiet ladies and gent I was with that day too. Every one of them had lost a shed load of weight and transformed their lives in the process. They too had set their goals and given it their all and every one of them was inspiring and encouraging others that they too could change their lives.   Those folk are living proof that things can change and that every one of us can do our bit to change our lives and help others too.

It doesn't matter if your goal is a park run or a marathon; to lose three pounds or three stone; to raise a happy child or be a great aunty.  Sometimes, the hardest thing of all is to put on a smile when you're in bits or just get out of bed in the morning. A goal doesn't have to be two gold medals. It just has to mean something important to you.

We humans are truly remarkable when we set our sights on something and go for it, and as I headed home from a far too hot, sweaty (and smoky) Luton Airport, I had lots of food for thought.

Without a goal in life, it is easy to drift, it's far too easy to waste our potential. A goal pulls it all together and points head, heart and spirit in the same direction. With focus and purpose, we begin to change our worlds and we help others change theirs too. Magic happens.

The Olympics inspire us all, and I loved the way they emphasised that these games are also for the gold medal winners of the future. But why should these dreams only be for the young? Sadly there's no Olympic dream for those of us who are a bit past our prime, but wouldn't it be wonderful if there was? Wouldn't it be wonderful to see healthy, active, competing older people; what an inspiration that would be!

These Olympic rings are from the residential home where my Mum lives - they've been talking about the Olympics for weeks and armchair swimming is on the agenda. How lovely to be connected, to feel part of it.

I certainly have been inspired to take up running in the second half of my life by men and women like  Fauja Singh. They've proved that we don't have to stop running just because of what's on our birth certificate. Helen Mirren showed me that I can have great muscle tone (and abs!) well past the age I'm supposed to not care any more.  Dame Kelly reminded me that if we go for what we want, we can make it happen, even when we think it's all over. But it takes work and it takes planning and it takes discipline.

So, I think it's time to stop drifting and time to decide on some goals. What do I want to achieve with my running? Is it time to think again about the marathon? Is that the right goal for me now? Ever? The key to success is setting the right goal and that takes a bit of thought. I know what can happen if you go for the wrong goal at the wrong time - I don't want another injury. 

For now, time to be inspired by the Olympics and train for Speed of Light. After that I will start working towards my next goal. Watch this space!

Wherever you are, whatever your goal, have a great week and take care.

Suex

You are what you think: mindful reflections on running

You know how the weather's been a bit rubbish this week? Well muggins was out and about, running  through what can only be described as North Berwick's equivalent of a monsoon, heading up a muddy slope, when I realised I was in survival mode.  My teeth were gritted, my smile had become a grimace and my head was down, eyes firmly fixed on the road in front.  Mentally and physically I'd hunkered down. I was doing a run, and that was that.  'That which doesn't kill me makes me stronger' I muttered as I turned into the wind and rain.

As I pulled myself upright physically, I smiled and my spirits lifted too.  How many times has every one of us uttered those words and how true it is that those toughest of times help us grow and strengthen.  Running in the rain is hardly the end of the world or indeed of any note at all really; as our Madeiran walking guide said to us 'it's only water' (what he didn't know was that at that very moment, the Icelandic Volcano was spewing out the ash that meant we came home by boat!).

Another favourite quote is the one from Hilary Clinton - about not wasting a good crisis.  Somehow despite the bad stuff, the seeds of hope and a better future are often closest to us when the going gets tough. And there is something very powerful about getting something good out of the hard stuff in life, it feels like somehow things even out in the end.

As I ran on, I was thinking about the tv programmes about the Olympic greats and all the studies that show that the truth of the Buddhist quote that we are what we think.  I've coped with missing my marathon and my calf injury by seeing my calf as teacher and a guide that will help me on my running journey, wherever that takes me.  I'm still being amazed by how that calf is keeping me right, reminding me that every thought has consequences. In lots of ways, it was my running equivalent of a near death experience - a serious health warning to change my ways or else - and it certainly did the trick. Maybe it's best to say it's still guiding me, there are no guarantees in life I know.

It's helped me re-write my personal rule book.  I used to have a general rule on no stopping until I finished whatever I was up to. I've seen me up ladders trying to stay awake with a paintbrush in my hand at 2am rather than leave a job unfinished. Looking at the wall in the cold light of the next morning, I could see that it hadn't been my best paint job.    From somewhere I managed to develop running rules too, like I have to run non stop, walking not allowed; and  I have to do a long run every week. Keep going 'til you drop might have its moments, but I no longer think it's the right rule to live or run by - the dropping bit can be a bit literal!

My new rules are to listen to my body and obey,  to focus on improving my running form and not to push myself hard on more than one run each week.  If I do a long run, I can't do hills. If I do a speed run, I can't do long distance.   It's strange not to get out for a good long session each week.  But  I've rather enjoyed getting that bit of time back, though I feel a bit guilty saying that.  And I return to my long run with a new vigour and energy and appreciation - absence truly does make the legs grow fonder.

There's another valuable gift that my injury is giving me - I'm learning to be disciplined and take control.  Running, and indeed life in general,  for me can sometimes be like taking a lively and enthusiastic golden retriever for a walk, my thoughts go bounding off dragging me after imaginary rabbits and interesting distractions only coming to rest when exhausted or hungry. So when I hear that little voice saying 'an extra mile? go on, go on!', I have to say 'no'.

So what if I can do 2 more miles, that's not the point, I know I can run further than is good for me. What I need to learn is discipline and control, I have to practice hard on these, it's quite a challenge for an old hippy 'go with the flow' person like me. But the deal is, when I get a better grip on things I can say 'yes' if it's the right thing to do.  They do say willpower and discipline work like a muscle, so f I can extend this discipline to cake and toast, I'm sorted!

My running journey is proof to me that I am what I think. Everyone's journey is different and it's a deeply personal experience that touches the very heart of who we are. That's so clear in the stories of the heroes and sheros we see all around us during this fabulous summer of sport and it makes their achievements even more memorable and awesome.

It's been a good running week for me despite the weather. Heavy spin class, my 5 miles and 5 hills route with my first ever series of hill sprints at the end (I only did 4 sprints, but I get the gist!). Also a fabulous sunny morning, speedy barefoot 3 miles on the beach and a long sunny 7 miler run. Distance and rigour building slowly.

North Berwick is always a beautiful place to run, but in the sun it is truly stunning - as you can see from my mid-run snap.

So onwards and upwards as they say. Raise a glass to our Tour Champion, what a great achievement. Have a great week's running and only 5 more sleeps until the Olympics!!

Take care

Sue