Feels like taper madness... what happens when runners don't run

A long period of not running is a bit like a prolonged taper, it does weird things to your mind. When the running stops, that running-shaped bit of our lives becomes a void where there be dragons and monsters to work wyrd magick in our heads. When we taper, we have to trust the space of not running and it's often when we get a deeper understanding of running.  Not running because of an injury brings a similar void. I'm beginning to realise the importance of finding the value of 'not doing'; not running; whatever the reason for our stillness.

In my last post I found myself questioning the right to call myself a runner. It led to a lovely exchange with Bob, a Twitter chum and remarkable blogger.  Bob has a powerful story to tell about being a runner and not always being able to run (I don't want to spoil the story so will say no more!).  His tale helped me understand that I am indeed a runner even if I'm not on my feet. If you ever get fed up being injured and fear you're losing hope, read Bob's story and believe. Thanks to Bob I know that at a fundamental level that no matter what I do, I am a runner. #thatisall

As the week went on I got more and more aware of the vacuum created by not running and how clearly I can see how running has become a fundamental part of my life, of who I am and increasingly, my core survival strategy.   When things have been tough, running has got me through. Now that I've stood still for a while, I can see I've almost literally been running for my life the last wee while - to burn off stress and clear my mind. Running has given me a massive sense of achievement and self confidence that I can do what I set out to do. It has provided an escape from worries and fear. Running has gifted me friends, a positive attitude, resilience and more confidence than I have ever had about anything: ever. But I only truly understood this when I stopped running.

The weird thing is it's all crept up on me without me even noticing.  Three years ago I was doing one run a week and just beginning to think I might go for a half marathon.  I could easily slot a run into my life with almost no adjustment. I just had to find a bit of time - about an hour a week. I wore my  usual gym kit and shoes. I ate what I normally ate. Easy.

But over the last 3 years, the balance has shifted and quite often I'm working out how to juggle things round a run. The signs are visible everywhere I look.  The alarm set for the crack of dawn to squeeze a run in before work; protein shakes in the cupboards; more trainers than heels and drawers full of lycra.

Nature abhors a vacuum and I have felt a real desire to rush to fill the spaces with noise and ideas and plans and goals, but if I do that I lose the true value of being where I am.  So I'm not going to do that. I'm going to stay here for a while and see what emerges. I'll be running soon and I'll lose the perspective that not running gives me, the chance to reflect on my life from a different place.  The future lies in the spaces in between and it will emerge in  its own good time.

Every time I've taken time out of running I have gone back stronger and better and more fully a runner. The first time brought I discovered a Chi Running teacher and community that have helped me connect my mind and body and focus on form.  The second time I learnt how to  accommodate my less than perfect biomechanics (i.e. dodgy feet) and to balance my lop-sidedness. Now, I'm reflecting on where running fits into my life and how I want to run over the next stage of my life.

When we runners don't run for whatever reason, a space is created. What we do with that space is up to us. We can turn away from it, ignore it, freak out, pack it full of activity.  Or we can lean over the edge, take a peek at what lies within and wait for new things to happen. It  really is a case of watch this space!

Whether you're running or reflecting, have a great week.

Take care

Suex

Ich Bin Ein Runner

What is the defining feature of a runner?

It's only over the last two years I've come to define myself as a runner, even though I've run sporadically for over 50 years.  I'm very proud of being able to call myself a runner now that I feel I've earnt the right to the honour and there's no doubt that it has transformed and enriched every aspect of my life.

At the moment, I'm a runner who can't run. The fact that running is so much more than a physical act is painfully apparent to me just now. But what happens when you can't do the very thing that defines an important part of you? I might feel like a runner inside, but how do I proclaim my running identity when I'm not able to run? How do we runners recognise our ain people if they're not clad in lycra and trainers and out on the trot? When I see another runner and I'm not running I want a badge, an arm band, some way of letting them know that, although I am walking and in civvies, I run. I want to tell them - 'I'm a runner too, I just can't run at the moment!' I don't do this of course, I've come to learn that shouting at strangers is not acceptable behaviour.  If there's someone with me, I have been known to make a running-type comment just loud enough for the passing runner to hear so that they know I am not just an ordinary person, I am one of us. Sad but true.

But even though I can't physically run, I am still a runner. Being a runner means being part of a massive community of folk to compare notes with, to share tales of glory and woe with. The running community loves to chat about the great passion we share. We learn from each other and support each other and cheer each other on to greater feats. Though indisposed, I can still work on my running. I can read about and develop my understanding of running; I can blog and tweet - life savers for us runners who are off our feet.

 I'm finding the combination of injury-enforced time-out and connecting with the wider running community is taking me to interesting new places that will ultimately develop me as a runner. Because I'm injured I don't have an active running goal; no time; no race; no distance to focus on. This has enabled me to open up to new and better ways of doing things.  For those of us who tend to get carried away with enthusiasm in our running, injury time can be nature's way of making us take stock. So the really daft thing to do is ignore the importance of time out and waste its potential.

I'm finding the mental part of injury time is a bit like the process my mind goes through on a long run.  Once I settle down to accepting I'm here for a while, I begin to relax into where I am and just go with it and see where it takes me. Last time injury took me to Chi Running and my teacher Nick. This new long non-run is leading me to think about why I run, what drives me to get out there. I'm not sure why or where this will take me, but I know it's a journey I have to make.  I have to put on my mental training shoes and get out there beyond my psychological comfort zone.

I am a runner. I can't run, but that won't stop me and it doesn't take away the fact that I am a runner. I ran today. I sat in the garden with my eyes closed. In my mind's eye I visualised my favourite run.  I ran barefoot from North Berwick along the beach; splashing in the briny and leaving perfect Chi footprints from here to Yellowcraigs and back. I felt the sun on my face and the wind at my back (going and coming back - a delight of virtual runs!). The oystercatchers shrieked and the gannets were diving from a deep blue sky.  My muscles were strong and every bit of me was on perfect form and my mind felt clear. I could run forever.

Hope you've had a good week, free from injury of the body or mind.

Take care,

Suex

Proceed until apprehended: Going to the wire

Well here I am, one week to go til the the Lochaber Marathon. It's been another roller coaster - can I run? can't I run? - kind of week. Less than 7 days to go and I'm still not sure.

The best news is that I know what the problem is, thanks to my Physio Pam. Something happened to a nerve in my mid back and it's triggered all kinds of mayhem in my hips. I've had a bad back now and then for years. It comes on when I'm stressed and sit too long on uncomfortable chairs.  Ironically, the last time I had it was in Barcelona (watching instead of running the marathon last year) when the airplane seats tipped me over the edge.

Not great news, but it does mean there's a chance I might run next week, so I'm not giving up just yet; hope, as they say, springs eternal. In that spirit I hit the treadmill on Friday morning before work.

I started slowly and focussed on the feedback I was getting. I made myself stretch every 2k. My legs felt heavy and my running style lumpen and leaden. Was that the outcome of my extreme tapering or nerve/muscle stuff?  I went into Chi Running mode and focussed on form and tried to run smoothly. Mentally this was great, it distracted me from the experience of pain and kept me feeling in control, but I couldn't find a way of influencing the pain through posture (which surprised me).   The pain came and went and moved around with no clear pattern; it certainly didn't get worse as I ran, but it didn't ease off either. Just as I thought things were settling down, it came back and kicked in hard. Stretching usually helped, but not always, sometimes it seemed to make it worse.

I realised pretty quickly that the pain itself wasn't the main problem; the real danger was that I would let the pain affect my form and I'd do some serious damage. I took myself back to me training with Nick last year and used the different Chi form focusses to make sure that no matter what the pain got up to, I was running right.

Having a proper diagnosis and knowing that I wasn't damaging my body helped a lot and gave me the chance to get into my running head again.  As the pain came and went and sometimes (worst of all) got stuck,  I remembered the early days of my training. When I started marathon training, I struggled with sore knees, ankle tendonitis and ITB strain until I got insoles to compensate for my gammy feet and lop sided pelvis.  Using my Chi thinking and through experience, I learnt not to freak out when I felt  pain but to go with it and see what happened. I learnt the value of relaxing my legs and running from the core and letting my body accommodate and adapt.  In those early days, I learnt to observe the pain and use my mind to keep me relaxed and focussed and my form to let me keep running. I'd been running so well and so free of pain in the latter part of my training that I'd forgotten how determined I'd been in those early days.

After the run, I felt fine and did loads of amazing yoga and Pilates thanks to Stacey, Richard & Kate at VirginActive gym. I've also caught up on Coronation Street and Prisoners Wives whilst rolling around on lumps of foam and sitting on tennis balls. Everything felt good, so this morning I was stiff but decided to try another run.

It wasn't too cold, but I wanted to give my muscles total care so I wore compression and thermal tights and headed off along the beach. It was so wonderful to run by the sea again. It was drizzly and cloudy but not busy (I avoided all dogs!). This time my running felt smooth and fluid. I felt my legs switch from feeling sleepy and lazy to starting to work properly, not surprising given my extreme tapering. The rain on my face, no wind (NO WIND!!!!), the sound of the waves, it was bliss. I felt great.

I went slowly and focussed on body-sensing. I was fine until about mile 4 when pain began to surface.  Stretching sorted out the butt pain, but it came back in the next muscle. I eventually worked out how to stretch that one, but by mile 5, it was getting seriously tight, too tight to run without limping so I stopped (one of my rules). I walked back briskly, the pain went if I pressed on the muscle but any running set it off again.  Gradually, the leg calmed down helped my heat, ice, stretching, rollering and Napier's miracle muscle rub (thank you Janice!).

So, I'm less confident today that I'll be up to 26.2 miles next Sunday, but I'm not giving up hope just yet.  I've been inspired by Facebook chats with Pam, Leah and Celina and the other Chi runners. We've been talking about how every run is a training run. That made me think that I could just see next Sunday's marathon as a training run, not for doing 26.2 miles, but for just starting a marathon.

I don't know what it's like to start a marathon; to line up, to keep a very slow pace and not be rushed by the excitement and other runners. I would learn an awful lot of useful stuff as prep for a marathon and no learning is ever ever wasted.  I might only manage 5 miles, but that wouldn't be the point of running.

Is it daft (or worse selfish) to even think of starting a marathon I almost certainly won't finish? Or would it be a wasted opportunity not to give it a try?

 I have my boundaries:

I won't run if Pam advises me not to, I run to be stronger and fitter not damaged and I'd miss my real runs - the ones on the beautiful beaches of East Lothian - if I got an injury.

I might run with pain as long as it's not damaging me. My experience on Friday showed me that pain and damage are not inextricably linked and then I read a great blog on pain and running by Tom Goom, which totally confirms my (very limited) experience on pain and running.

I won't run if it looks like I'll have to walk most of the way or take 6 hours. I want to run a marathon not walk one, walking 26.2 miles is not meaningful to me, plus I don't want to keep the marshals away from their tea! I'd sooner stop at 5 miles

You probably think I'm mad and I should just accept I'm not going to run and get over it. But I know it's not yet time for acceptance. I will not accept something's impossible when there is still hope, however faint. I plan to proceed until well and truly apprehended, chained and shackled. That's the only way to tackle the hard stuff and the only way that I will feel good about not running.  I'm pretty sure I can run 26.2 miles, I'm not sure I can do it next Sunday.

Clocked 10 miles this week (hooray!) and more yoga and pilates than you'd think humanly possible.

Hope you've all had good weeks and are running, walking, cycling, living happy and healthy.

Fingers crossed for next week....

Take care!

Suex

Taper time: Treats and trembles

Well, this post should have started off with a sigh of relief that I'd finished the long runs; that the 5 o'clock rises to squeeze a run in before work were done for now. It doesn't. It starts with an "ouch!" and the sound of fingers and toes crossing firmly with the clear intention to summon a bit of luck that I will in fact make it to the starting line in Fort William in less than three weeks.

I'm not sure what happened. I'd felt a bit niggled after last Saturday's long run; sort of out of kilter. There was nothing I could put my finger on, but a swim and yoga session got me back to normal and nothing hurt so I just put it down to being disgruntled and tired and ready to taper.

So I headed off quite chipper for my middle distance run on Wednesday lunchtime. Despite the awful weather we've had, the sun was shining and the sky was blue. Okay it was a bit blowy and a bit nippy, but you don't run on Scottish East Coast beaches without getting used to that! I'd dressed warm with my polar leggings (not worn for several years, it's not been cold enough); gloves and even Ali's neck warmer. It felt great and I felt good and started to think I might go for 10 miles given how lovely it all was.

I trotted along and a very large friendly (and rather tubby) dog came up to say 'hello'. Nothing untoward and he was certainly better behaved than many of the dogs you meet on the beach. I stopped and greeted the beast but he jumped up on me and his weight shoved me over on my ankle. Not a big dunt, it wasn't even sore and of course I've done the twisted ankle thing before and then run 20 miles, so I didn't worry unduly and just headed off again.

Gradually I noticed a sort of stiff pain in my outer left thigh. I've got quite used to pain over the last few months and I've learnt just to relax and wait for  it to move around as my body accommodates and adapts.  But this was different and it didn't budge, I seized up more and more.  By mile 5, I couldn't keep going, my leg just wouldn't move like it needed to. It wasn't horrendously sore, my leg just wouldn't work; some bit of me was not happy and wasn't going to play anymore. I stopped running, turned round and started walking home - I didn't want to risk an injury so close to the big day.

Walking is really slow, it takes sooo long to get anywhere, but at least I was warmly dressed and the sun was shining. The pain eased quickly over the next day or so, and luckily I'd got a general maintenance check with the physio scheduled and got the all clear. I had a massage and it all looked okay for the last long Saturday run.

Saturday came. It was baltic, absolutely baltic with snow forecast for the second half of my run. Out came the winter gear. In went the porridge. A gentle warm up of the body and mind and then off I went into the breach. It was cold and windy but how exhilarating! I started off very slowly, thinking just how good I was going to feel at the end - thanks to my Twitter chums cheering me on. After about 5 minutes I  had a sharp pain down the thigh muscle and everything seized up again. It was worse this time, much more painful and it came on quicker than Wednesday. I did momentarily think about running on but that would have been madness. I knew I had to abort my mission - this was not the time to experiment running through a new and rather ominous pain. I might be able to do that in the marathon, but now I needed to listen to my body and head home.

I got great support from physio and runner Tom Goom (@tomgoom) who helped me get a handle on what was going on; reminded me that I'd done most of my training and I had a chance if I focussed on healing. There's lots of very good advice on his website too. After two twenty mile runs I do feel confident I have it in me to do the full 26.2, but not with a gammy leg! I surrendered to taper and accepted my lot.


To mark the end of long runs and the start of taper, I celebrated with afternoon tea at Greywalls in Gullane. It didn't matter too much that I'd not managed the 20 that morning.  It wasn't just a reward for that one run, it was a reward for everything; every early morning, every treadmill torment, every niggle and every lesson learnt over the last 3 months. And I have to tell you it tasted every bit as good as it looks! Carb loading can indeed be fun and not too onerous!

I'm now focussed on healing with my trusty compression tights on and my fingers crossed ready for my physio appointment tomorrow evening.  I must admit I'm tired, despite (or maybe because of) not running much this week. It isn't just the muscles that get all fired up and busy when you're training - it's mental and adrenalin fuelled too; it's odd not to have my mental calculator going non stop to work out how to squeeze the runs in!

So I'm in taper. Physically it started last week, mentally it started yesterday. It's not quite how I'd planned it, but none of the training has gone to plan, and that's part of the learning.  As I sit here I've suddenly started to notice streaked windows and dusty corners. Spring is coming and I feel the urge to clean. I add a taper to-do list to my to do list!

So fingers crossed til tomorrow night when I hope to get a verdict. Will I run Lochaber or will I yet again watch a marathon?

Whatever you're up to in your training, good luck and watch out for big friendly dogs!

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

Runner Reborn - Barefoot Chi Running

It's not every day that you get the chance to start again, but every now and again something happens; that wee window opens and there it is, a life changing opportunity sitting there right in front of your eyes, waving. I've got one  in front of me right now as I contemplate my running future and what I want to do.

I had an amazing day in the company of Nick Constantine, @soulsinmotion to Twitter folk. Nick is  a Chi Running and Walking instructor as well an Iyengar yoga person and he was my coach for the day.  I've been mentored, but never been coached or had a personal trainer (unless you count being yelled at whilst learning to swim a breadth at primary school) but I'd read Chi Running; tried it in practice and knew that to get it right I needed some face to face coaching.  I was right and Nick was perfect for me.

Nick started off by running me through the basics, getting my head into the right place and then off to the beach.  First Nick assessed my current running form. Now I thought I had quite good form, guess we all do! But in the critical gaze of Nick's IPad, I saw a slow loper with her bum sticking out, her feet dragging and her head down.  I really hadn't tried to be perfect, but I'd been quietly confident I'd get a good mark.  My footprints on the sand were a testament to a runner heavy on her feet, who pushes off quite hard. Nick was several stone heavier than me and a heck of a lot taller, but my footprints were much much deeper than his, and that told the story.

Faced with the evidence and with Nick explaining to me what I was doing, we set about getting me re-programmed. I decided to go barefoot and I am so glad I did. I love to walk barefoot on the sand and I am an olympic level paddler, but I hadn't run barefoot on sand since I was a child.  There was something about my feet hitting the sand that helped me take it in and focus on my feet and what they do when I run.  Gradually I began to learn how to get my posture right; how to just start running without pushing off hard like a sprinter. I saw how my asymmetry affected my running and gave me a lazy side I need to tackle.

I began to understand how the way I ran was putting a lot of strain on my legs and lower back. No wonder I got injured as I began to test myself with marathon training at an age when things are losing a bit of their youthful elasticity!  Marathon training is pretty good for finding out your weak spots, but if you don't know what they are, you can't handle them.

As we chatted over a lunchtime bowl of soup at the Scottish Seabird Centre, I asked loads of daft questions, and Nick helped me make sense of my experiences that morning, including that how I run is very much like how I live my life - too much, too quick, too big a rush, always looking and planning one step ahead. Yup, that's me, even if it's largely imposed on me at the moment. I saw my video and looked at some other folk before and after chi training. I saw hunched up bouncy people becoming relaxed smooth movers. Was I going to be able to do that too? I so wanted to be one of those chi runners, they looked so good.

I was eager to get back out and learn some more so I could be a Chi runner and be one now! The tide was in so we headed off to the grass bank, but I kept my shoes off. Now for some more running practice. Nick likened it to swimming lengths and how swimmers practice by getting their form right by doing it over and over.  He also taught me I have an 'edge',  a point up to which I can hold my form, and over which things go belly up. I need to focus on extending my edge, not speed, not my distance, not racing, but extending how long and how fast I can hold my form. That tapped nicely into my Pilates head and made a lot of sense.

I learnt a lot of amazing, transformational things that afternoon. My favourite was the importance of running at a fast cadence - 175-185 steps per foot per minute. Running at round 180 reduced my overstrike, helped me lift my feet and helped me keep light. It felt effortless, in the zone; I lost that slow draggy feeling I get when I have to run slowly. It also satisfied my need for speed but without the damage that I'd been doing. One of my big problem areas is my shoulders and the need to keep my arms and hands relaxed - I really hunch up, I need to run tall. I am going to have to focus on the basics for quite a while before I start to go up the gears a bit, I am going to have to take this seriously.

At the end of a great day over a much deserved cup of tea, I felt enthused and inspired as Nick summed up what I'd achieved, what I'd learnt and what I had still to do. This is a way of running that feels great, that has pace, that will challenge me lots and will help me run forever. I know this is what I want to do. My biggest challenge though is going to be me and the way my mind works. Next morning the video, technique tips and notes arrived and I'll be sending Nick a video or two of my progress to get feedback over the next 6 months.

I've got a decision. I could just pick up where I left off and try to get back to running normally integrating  Chi techniques. I could build distance and then work up the speed, do my marathon, and hope that the Chi stuff has stuck. But what a wasted opportunity and somehow that doesn't feel like the right thing to do. I have a very strong sense that my injury demands that I start to do something different about my running if I want to run long and strong for the years ahead.

If I am going to commit to running better, I am going to have to give up, at least for now, a focus on a marathon and focus simply on how long I can hold my form for. That is going to mean heading to the beach when I can and practicing barefoot. It probably mean pulling out of the Edinburgh half in April and not running a marathon this year.

I have to say I am a bit torn, surely I could just do the marathon and then sort my form out?  Well I might get away with it, but I probably wouldn't, and if I am honest, I know that.  I know what I need to do. Have I got the mental discipline to do it? I hope so. I really really hope so.

So thank you Nick for helping me get onto the right path for my running journey, helping me set my goals and how I might get there. I'm looking forward to your next video of me showing a relaxed and confident Chi runner!

Lots of halves, 20 milers and great running this week our there in the Twittersphere. Whatever you're up to, be great, run strong!

Take care

suex

Into the starting blocks

The end is nigh. I am, I sincerely hope, now in the final week of not running. What a relief - for us all I'm sure. You must be as fed up of this as I am!

For all but the first week of the injury I've kept up my exercise routine. At the core have been physio, upper body conditioning and Pilates, gradually built up as my poorly leg could take it. Good for keeping some muscle tone and discipline,  great for staying positive, feeling like an athlete and keeping in touch with the healing process.

This week I got back to the gym - hooray! I got a lovely welcome back from Kevin at Virgin Omni and it was great to be back despite the usual busy-ness of the gym this time of year. I know people complain about gyms, but the joy of being able to exercise again beats all. I'd have made do with a massive hamster wheel if it meant I could run.   There's a machine for everything even for the crocked runner.

My first triathlon - 10 minutes on the bike; 10 minutes on the cross trainer and 10 lengths of the pool. No resistance, very slow, very gradual. Savouring the movement of my limbs and paying close attention to the messages from the muscles - testing, trying. There were as many complaints and grumbles from my non injured leg which rightly feels it deserves a rest after the last 6 weeks of keeping the show on the road.

As my non-running draws to an end, I'm coming to the end of my first reading of Chi Running. A phased running recovery will fit well with the transition to chi running - physically and mentally. I've tried Chi walking and it's helping a lot. Relaxing my lower leg helped me stop limping and start to balance the legs again.

Recovery has forced me to slow down and think about what I'm doing. It also makes me pay close attention to my body and what it's telling me. That damaged muscle lets me know how it's reacting and I am actively listening. A nip slows me down very effectively and that enables me to correct my posture too.

If you'd asked me before I would have said of course I'm listening to my body. I heard nips and niggles, but I wasn't focussed enough on how my body was reacting - not like I am now.  My head knew I was running too fast, but I wasn't getting feedback from the bit of me that does the hard work. I want to keep the focus in future so that as I recover physically I don't just speed up and do it all again.

I plan to treat myself to some new ultra light Brooks. I am going to include barefoot beach walks and runs in my training and I will be running with Danny on the iPod. Cross training is back in, it worked well before and I will continue my core Pilates and yoga.

The external pressures on me to run are removed.  Recovery will dictate my running until I'm back to normal. I will run that marathon when I'm ready, not when I can fit it in with everything else.  I know I can do it, I just don't know when yet.  You know things are bad when they're a learning experience, and this certainly has been an education, but it will soon be history.

Soon I will be off running again. I can't wait to get my legs and buns of steel back - my legs are so soft that the cats have taken to sitting on my lap again.

Friday, I'm back in the race. Today I'm hunkered in the blocks ready to go. No false starts.  Cue the snow!

Happy running!

Take care

suex