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