Diddly December

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

Breaking news: Today I ran, yes, ran for 25 minutes.

How did this come about? Really it was brought on by frustration. After a few good days with only the merest hint of whimpering from the plantar fasciosis injury, it unexpectedly, and without cause, flared again. This got me to thinking thus: rest makes no difference, nor does not resting. Stretching likewise makes no difference, and nor does not stretching. The big factor, not running similarly seems not to have helped. The only thing I hadn't tried was to run through the injury, despite being clearly told not to.

So, to hell with it. I fired up the treadmill, walked for 20 minutes as a warm-up, then began a slow, gentle, old-man's shuffling jog. No sharp pains nor even discomfort resulted, so I upped the tempo and completed a cautious, but immensely satisfying 25 minutes of actual running. Another 15 minutes of walking to cool down followed by the requisite stretching (which seems to make no difference) and the foot felt fine. The true test will be when I wake up tomorrow: if the foot is very sore, then I'll have overdone it, but at least I won't die wondering.

But there's a good chance it will be fine. It seems to me to make sense: if not running caused the injury in the first place (as my podiatrist supposes), then running may yet be the cure, at least now the injury has settled down a little.

I'll be sure to let you know, tomorrow. Don't touch that dial.

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

Training. No, not that sort of training.

And the news from here is that there's no real change to the foot, certainly nothing negative. On waking up there was no pain worth speaking of, and through the day it never rose above more than a dull ache, even with a frantic 6km dash on foot across Sydney to work when the train system collapsed, stranding me four stations short of my destination. I don't like to speak ill of the Sydney train system (unlike many Sydney residents who bag it mercilessly and endlessly). In more than ten years of commuting, I can count on one hand* the number of times I've been late for work or returning home because of train delays. And compared to many parts of the world, the fares are indeed, quite 'fair'.

However, like many systems in the domesticated western world, they do rather fall apart when something goes wrong. Last Wednesday we had a day of wild storms, with more than a month's worth of rain falling inside an hour prior to the start of the morning rush. That was bad enough, but one solitary tree falling across the lines in the afternoon was enough to cause total chaos to the whole network. My usual 37 minute commute took nearly two hours, with the last 40 minutes of that being necessarily on foot.

Which isn't to say they aren't trying to improve things. Sydney Trains is very proud of its brand spanking new Control Centre in one of the inner suburbs, describing it as 'leading edge' and 'world's best practice' and so on. It has one of the largest control room video walls anywhere in the world, which all looks very impressive and makes for truly excellent promotional videos. It's of little use though, seemingly, when the signalling system at Central Station goes on the blink, as happened this evening, and which required my hot footing it across town and being 45 minutes late for work. Before taking to the streets I asked the train guard what was happening. He was more forthright than is usual among train staff, saying that with no signalling available, no train was allowed to move from each station until the previous train had cleared the line and station ahead, with train movements being confirmed only by two-way radio. This had reduced the network to a crawl, with the resultant chaos sending the level of uncertainty into the stratosphere. A quick phone call to work revealed that all was quiet there and my being late wouldn't matter much, so I left the station and took the opportunity to further test my foot with a very brisk walk.

The result was I reduced my PB for this walk from 52 minutes, a PB I thought would stand for many a year (my more usual very quick time for this route is 54 - 55 minutes). But even wearing jeans, the wrong shoes and a slightly heavy backpack, I made it in bang on 50 minutes. Importantly, the fleet-footwork even reduced the discomfort in my left foot**, so I am rapidly coming to the conclusion that now may well be the time to call this plantar fasciosis's bluff and try now to run it off.

So, training of a sort it was, after all.

Things are looking up. Well, maybe not so much for Sydney Trains.

*Well, maybe two hands.
**The discomfort returned after an hour or so, but no more than it had been earlier in the day.

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

With no ill effects from my first test run, I ran again today. Once more it was just a slow and simple run, but the key thing is that I jogged non-stop for 25 minutes with not a skerrick of complaint from the foot, other than a low, dull ache that now more-or-less resides there permanently. This is most satisfying and not a little encouraging.

It comes at a time when I most need it. I'm still constantly tired from excessive shift work and we're running headlong into another dispute with our management that may yet see us back in court. We've held the peace for over two years now, but after a pretty good period of cease-fire changes are afoot once again, seemingly identical to those which started the troubles back in 2016. We have a first big all-in meeting tomorrow (at the start of a 12-hour shift for me), with little to no clear idea of what management has in store for us, other than the fact that they seemed pretty keen to get our whole team in the room at very short notice: a pretty impossible task at the best of times. Whilst that sounds a little ominous, I think it's going to be a fairly tame information session, but one can never be quite sure about what they're thinking, as it nearly always defies logic and generally lacks common sense. At this time of year uncertainty is less than ideal, of course, but with a little luck and some goodwill around the board table perhaps we'll yet have reason to smile a little. The reality however is more probably that negotiations will drag on for months and create some serious ill-will.

This is why it was particularly gratifying to complete another successful run today, for running is the principle means by which I can survive through these times of uncertainty, mistrust and the general kind of back-stabbing that plagues working life these days.

It's an interesting, albeit far smaller parallel to the Brexit shenanigans being carried out in the House of Commons as I write this. Having only very recently acquired my own British passport, I am even more interested to follow the drama. With friends and relatives on both sides of the equation, I'm trying to keep an objectively neutral, but keen eye on proceedings, but I more often than not just end up shaking my head in disbelief. How on earth did it get like this?

I suppose, like the mysterious appearance of my plantar fasciosis, some things in life just defy explanation. 

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

Christmas Cheer

The lead up to Christmas is a crazy time to start a new training program, but that's what I've done: I've ruled a heavy red line under the training log; donned a new pair of running shoes and have a whole new world of pain to look forward to. Today, for the first time since May I was able to run for a full half-hour at something approaching regular training pace, and whilst it was hard going, it also felt great. The pain in my left foot no longer bothers me, although it's still there, laying in the corner like a dying mongrel, whimpering still but no longer able to get up and bite like it did, or to even snarl. It's days are numbered, and so it's time for a new bout of optimism.
 
My goal is simple - to run regularly and have half an eye to perhaps running the Sydney Half Marathon again in May. It should be straightforward, and I'm feeling good about it after so many weeks of pessimism.

And the new shoes feel good, too.

  

   

[Bierzo Baggie]

Not an injury I've experienced before but it sounds like an awkward one. Glad it seems to be sorting itself out. 

Let's get into 2018 with a bit of contagious optimism eh? 

[marathondan]

Woohoo, great news! Having overcome that hurdle, maybe you can put you mind to the trains, and then Brexit, and see if you can sort those out too? Cheers.

It's fantastic when the clouds break / fog lifts / some other metaphor occurs and you're suddenly good to go once more. Well done for hanging in there.

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

Cheers BB, MD ... compared to trying to fix Brexit, no amount of running seems difficult. We may not be able to stop these things, but at least we can cope with them by continuing to run. That's the only prescription I can offer you but I think it'll work.

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

Another half-hour solid plod goes in the running log today. These runs may not be much to write about, but I want to get a few of these tucked in my belt before beginning to cut loose a little. It's been too long an off season to risk further injury by doing too much too soon. Ah, well, 'tis the silly season anyway, so time for running is not so easy to find. It is great to be running again though and I'm already feeling the benefits, with a heightened smugness more than overshadowing any lesser physical improvements.

With yet more mayhem in the UK (Brexit), France (yet another terrorist attack) and the U.S.A. (what else but Trump?) plus ongoing industrial trouble at work, and the general chaos that is the pre-Christmas season, I need this athletic mental tonic just now as much as cheap gin needs real tonic.

And with that thought in mind, I'm off to find a drink. Cheers.

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

The cicadas had been presaging this evening's storm for three days, the slow build up of heat and humidity curiously matching the increase in strength of the cicada's chirruping. 'Chirrup' is a poor word to describe the sound of cicadas, especially when the critters reach their full, deafening strength which can be genuinely excruciating. Thankfully here in Sydney they aren't nearly that loud, and in fact it has been rather pleasant to hear them, especially as they always bring to mind the opening four minutes of my favourite Santana album, Caravanserai, in which they feature prominently. Unlike that album's quiet and pleasant opening track, the storm's build up was dark and ominous, and as I watched it approach, firstly on the Bureau of Meteorology's weather radar, and then from outside in our covered alcove area from where I saw ground stroke after ground stroke of lightning get steadily and worryingly closer. Then as the first fat drops of rain from the storm front fell, the cicadas ceased their song, now in any case largely inaudible as the incessant thunder drowned out nearly all other sounds.

The storm, one of several to sweep across Sydney during the day, luckily spared our suburb the worst of its violence, and in spite of its dramatic approach, gave us just a good drenching of welcome rain and no direct lightning strikes, and certainly none of the golf ball-sized hail and destructive winds that other areas of the city received. It did cause me some inconvenience however, with the train system reduced to chaos by the resulting storm damage, meaning my usual 45 minute trip to work became more than twice as long and making me very late.

The other minor inconvenience caused by this weather was to my morning run, the 31 degrees of heat and 92% humidity causing me to call it off as a generally bad idea. It's a risk always associated with running in the Australian summer, of course, and the occasional cessation of the training program due to weather is to be expected. And with more hot and stormy weather to come, I'm thankful that my immediate running goals are modest and flexible. With Christmas just ten days away, there's a lot of stuff on the calendar to wade through and squeezing in a run here and there is difficult enough anyhow, but I'm keen; we'll see if I can't get something happening, despite it all.

[Antonio247]

Hope you can go on training and you get over the plantar fasciosis soon,MLCMM.


Saludos desde Almería.

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

I wrote last time how the cicadas had for three days presaged the arrival of heavy rain. We had another portent of woe the other day with the return of the green clouds. These only rarely show themselves, but are reliable indicators of a severe storm about to hit the city, nearly always with ridiculously large hailstones and torrential rain dumped in an alarming short period of time. This happened last Thursday.

I was at work when the first of the storms arrived, and these were worrying enough, but then we saw on the weather radar two more severe storms converging on the city, one from the north-west and one from the south-west, looking to collide just a short distance west of where I was located. It was shortly before their arrival that people all over the city and points further north saw the green clouds. I didn't see them myself, the ominous portent being on wrong side of the building from me, but it was obvious from just a glance out the window that the storm was going to be a bad one. Sure enough, very quickly the two storm fronts merged, the sky grew alarmingly dark and then torrential rain came, quickly followed by thunderous, marble-sized hail. We have a spectrum analyser display in the control room where I work which shows the strength of the signal being received by our main satellite dish on the roof. In heavy rain, this level can fall dangerously low, on very rare occasions being reduced to zero and shutting off all contact with the satellite. This I saw happen on this occasion, but in reality the sound level of the rain and hail had increased to the point where I knew anyhow without the need to look at technology that we were in a spot of bother. That's also when the hail turned from marble to golf-ball size. I abandoned my work post briefly to get a closer look at the hail which is when for a few moments it even threw down some billiard ball-sized stones, which thundered into the roof and surrounds and threatened to do serious damage. This it evidently did, with car windscreens smashed, outdoor furniture destroyed and even paving stones cracked open by the stuff. Fortunately, our home a little to the north of the city was spared the worst of the hail, but at work our satellite system, as indicated by the spectrum analyser, was indeed knocked out of commission, and which took an engineer and a team of technicians four hours to jury-rig a work-around for.

Meteorologists struggle to fully understand how and why the mysterious green clouds form, but perhaps the most plausible explanation has to do with how ice-laden storm clouds filter out sunlight, with only green wavelengths getting through, similar to that of green-tinged icebergs, perhaps. Whatever the scientific explanation, there's little doubt that they are accurate predictors of severe hail, wind and rain to come. Unfortunately, the length of time given in warning is very short, but enough, at least, to get under cover and escape the potentially lethal hail.  

But that was last week. It's now Christmas Day, and I'm sorry to say that I have no further running to report. This has been in small part due to the storms; more especially due to a reoccurrence of the plantar fasciosis, and as well of course just the general mayhem that is pre-Christmas chaos. The return of the sore left foot had me perplexed and more than a little annoyed until I finally realised that by mistake I had been wearing my old orthotics for three consecutive days. Switching back to my new ones made an almost immediate improvement, and so I am confident that I should be back in running kit very soon.

That is, if Christmas indulgence doesn't get in the way first, of course.

             

[Showing the weather radar image of the converging storms, and the green clouds seen at the time.]

[Sweder]

Bastard PF. It's my greatest fear, although my biggest challenge at the moment are my bulging belly, so much harder to shift when you pass 50, and my recalcitrant hamstrings, which have tag-teamed me in recent weeks. First the right had a big twitch on the last lap of Parkrun, then the left on the start of a light outing with the hounds. I've sought treatment on both occasions, and advice (wears up and wear leggings in colder weather).

PF is never far away, it seems. Maybe it's an age thing, but I can feel the early stages sometimes. I also get cramp in my toes. I've booked in for the half in Almeria (every other bugger OATR aside, seems to be doing the 9k). I may end up walking it at this rate. I just can't go and not do the half.

Best to the Clan Mid Life Crisis for a stonking 2019.

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

As the end of the year rapidly approaches, it is time then to reflect on the last twelve months and indeed the last few years of my running endeavours and to take stock once more. Far from ending on a high, the last six months have been pretty miserable, with barely a single step run. Yet, these weeks and months are not representative of the last few years in general, and so I remain positive and hopeful for the years to come.

It seems to me that friends and acquaintances of about my age everywhere are experiencing the same thing as myself: that as the years advance, fitness becomes harder to attain, and more importantly, the recovery from the loss of that fitness becomes even harder still, whether the loss be through injury, the simple but not inconsiderable turmoils of life, or just through plain inertia. To avoid running injuries and the frustration that age adds to their recovery, some people change to lower-impact sports, such as cycling, swimming or simply focusing on gym work. Others persevere with their running, while still others give up exercise altogether. This latter group, so far as I can see, then rapidly head down the cliff face of obesity and serious disease; something we should all be anxious to avoid.

So it is with mixed feelings that I end the year without a run to report in its last week. It's true that the weather has been ridiculously hot and humid, but when running is going well, one still somehow manages to squeeze in a run of some sort no matter what the weather. But at this early stage of my recovery it is just too much to contemplate, and in truth it matters little. That I will run again, and run well is beyond doubt. My goals for the coming year will be modest, but no less important for that.

There's life in these legs yet, and if there's an edge of desperation in my attempts to prove it, then so be it. Life becomes all the more interesting for that. So, let's take a deep breath and get on it with it.

Here we go...


TO BE CONTINUED

[Antonio247]

Hope you get better soon and can train as you used to. All the best for the new year!


Saludos desde Almería.

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

Hope you get better soon and can train as you used to. All the best for the new year!


Saludos desde Almería.

Cheers Antonio! Feliz año nuevo to you and Carmen, also.