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

Running with children and animals

Thanks to 'No one is perfect but being Irish is close enough' for the photo

The joys of the long slow run! I know I'm not supposed to think about distance but I love my long runs. A long slow lope on a weekend takes my head and body to places I just can't get to any other way. So I continue my long runs though I'm supposed to be doing hills and form.

Anyway, today's sunshine meant everyone was out and about making the most of a few rain free hours.   The streets and beaches were full of manic children and dogs.  Most contacts with these strange animals are most enjoyable and I'm always intrigued by what dogs and children make of a lycra clad matron pounding round North Berwick.

To teenagers,  I am clearly invisible; they only register a very specific part of the spectrum of human life forms and the cut off is about 17, so I am well past it.  I'm also more or less invisible to collies and dogs of that ilk. Wonderful beasts, clearly more intelligent than humans, they focus on honing their innate skills and are not distracted by other species unless they need them to throw things.

Small children and most dogs are however very much aware of runners and the way they react is just fascinating. Some little humans and older dogs are startled. They don't know what to make of an over weight ninja in sunglasses and headphones bearing down on them - even worse over taking them. Some cry, some are startled, some run away. I know I don't look like a gymnast, but I must resemble something horrible - probably from a Roald Dahl book. You just know that he would have seen a middle aged running woman as an opportunity for some ghastly character.

Some children and dogs are clearly interested and look at me with a bemused but curious expression. 'Why?' I can hear them thinking. And I'm not sure I can answer.  We usually exchange a brief smile and go our separate ways.

Then there's the ones that want to join in - usually toddlers and the dog equivalent.  They don't see human or animal, they see running. Their little legs start running automatically like an innate herding response - if an adult runs, you do too,  just in case it's an attack. It takes a wee while for their heads to catch up -  they run now and think later. You can see the thought process sometimes, they get that puzzled expression wondering how on earth they started to run and how they're going to stop.

As the run goes on, I begin to ponder. Will  any of those children become runners one day? Do they have parents or family that run?  I rarely see teenagers or younger ones running unless they're playing. Bikes, roller blades, skate boards - lots of wheels, but not running.  I remember a delightful photo that John put up of himself as a young athlete and it made me smile.

I remember running once as a child - in a sports day, I was about 6. It was a deeply unpleasant experience, leaving me wheezing, snotty and in pain. I finished with the very clear message that I was not sporty, but that was fine because I liked studying and everyone knows you can't do both. So my path was set, I only dabbled in sporty type things, I was officially a book worm.

I didn't run again (except for rounders or netball) until I got to university and I didn't like it much then either, but it was good for counteracting the wild living  (though I did enjoy running on the beach). It's only in my later years that I've discovered the true joys of running and come to love it and the gifts it brings me. Not least the gift of getting to know other runners.

As I ran, I wondered what it would have been like if I'd been taught how to run as a child. What kind of runner would I be now? We got swimming lessons and cycling proficiency at school and we were taught to play games, but we never did running.   What would it have been like to have been encouraged, coached to run, to get better, to test my limits? I know now how important coaching is, what difference would it have made then?


When I was sorting Mum's house out for her move to the Abbey, I found some old medals.  They were for running with a Latin inscription, but the box was long gone so I don't know whose they were.  Somewhere in my family history, was another runner. I wonder if I'll ever find out who. I have at least 2 cousins who are runners, maybe there's a running gene in my history.

A good running week - that sports massage really got me on the straight and narrow and the yoga is keeping me there. A hard spin session;  my first 5k speed session since the injury (29.50 minutes - a long way off my 24.35 pb); a longish hilly session (1 hour, 6 miles)  and a lovely long, slow run today - 7 miles in 1.14h. I could have gone longer but I must be careful (and ASndy Murray was about to play). So my weekly mileage is creeping up - it's at 16 and a bit miles now.

The calf is doing fine, it barely twinges at all, but I got a sore hip flexor at 5 miles the other day, something I've never had problems with before.  It's linked to a lazy left hip having to do more work as I balance up. Luckily, some remedial exercises and stretches made a big difference and I was fine today. This body sensing is really working and making me take control of my running destiny. More hills next week I think, ready for August.

Whatever you're up to, I hope that you to some good quality running despite the weather. Good weather for ducks as they say - and maybe also triathletes!

Happy running!

Sue

Running at the Speed of Light

When I started running round the block to help me lose weight, it never crossed my mind that  I would end up with a wardrobe full of lycra, more trainers than shoes, and a developing sports massage habit. Oh and I would have put a considerable amount of money on me not wearing pink - ever.

I never thought that I would seriously ever contemplate running a marathon, never mind start seriously training for one.

And I never ever thought I'd end up running round Arthur's Seat in a light suit and a head torch training for an event in the Edinburgh International Festival.  I could conceivably have turned up in the Fringe during my rather more flamboyant years, but the Festival proper is something rather different.

Who'd have thought it - me in the Edinburgh International Festival! Me a performer in The Speed of Light!

Well I did and I am. Next month, if I'm spared and well, I'll join hundreds of other runners in a spectacular light show on Arthur's Seat.  We'll all be running up and down and round and round Salisbury Crags lit up like Christmas trees, bringing sport and art together as we become the human components of a massive light show.  We'll be fire flys, light houses, hubs and sparks and it is going to be awesome and a bit scary.

Sunday was a rehearsal  and I spent 3 hours with two fantastic run leaders and the one and only White group knocking seven bells out of my calves as we trudged up hills, skited down mud slides and tried valiantly to get the right distance between each other. The running was like nothing I'd done before and was quite an experience.

There's one more practice next month and then the performances start. Mine is an early one. I've got a bit of hill work to do before then so I'm mugging up on my Chi Running coach Nick's advice on hills.

I know I have to be careful with hills, so this challenge is more mental than it is physical to be frank. And even though we only ran for about an hour max, my calves were a bit tight after an afternoon on the hills and I was worried I might have set my injury off. The thought of the injury got me into a cold shower (closest I could get to an ice bath!) and  I only cross trained for the rest of the week. The rest and an excellent sports massage from Lizelle set me right. I am now under strict orders to stretch at least 10 minutes for every hour I'm out there and have booked regular sports massages. I've also re started my daily yoga routine.

It's funny. A week or so ago I'd started thinking about a marathon next year. I don't have the caring responsibilities I had and have a lot more time so I don't have to rush about quite as much as before. The Speed of Light event wasn't something I'd really thought about much until last Sunday.  But I realised on Monday morning when my calves were nipping like mad and the memory of the injury loomed large, that unless I have one clear focus, I'm back on the bench and probably for longer than 3 months. Speed of Light is serious hill work for me. I need to focus on getting hill-fit for 10 August. Not distance, not speed,  hills. I've learnt the hard way to respect hills and that I must focus on one thing at a time.

Chi Running is all about going with the flow of energy when you run, being aligned and focussed on your goal. Since I stopped thinking about doing a marathon and instead focussed on my running form, things have got interesting.  Who'd have thought that a holiday run would bring me face to face with a moose? Who'd have thought that the injury that led me to shelve my marathon hopes would have me running up and down an extinct volcano lit up like a firework in front of an audience.  

I got injured because I didn't respect hills. My head pushed my body beyond its limits. My legs understand the power of hills; my head is getting there - slowly.  I've come to understand that distance is not my forte, it pushes my body and my mind much harder than speedy shorter runs do.  So if I am going to do more than a half, my head has to learn to listen to and respect my body. Hills are my big challenge and teacher on that journey.

Ever since Nick and I did my first Chi running session on North Berwick beach in March, I've been learning to follow my feet not my head. So far so unpredictable.  Since my injury, I have a little niggle in my calf to guide me.  I'll trust the wisdom in my body as I tackle the hills of Salisbury Crags and onto my next adventure! Maybe even a marathon one day.

Running this week - 3 hour hill session and then only cross train and walking until today when I did a slow and flat 8 and a bit miles in my super duper compression socks. The calf was fine and I finished with a hill and then a little sprint. Onwards and upwards!

Happy Running!

Suex