February 2005 - Week 3

[Sweder]

Back to the treatment table tonight.
I've done precisely zero miles since the last twinge on Sunday, and I have to say the Lord hath smiled upon me this week. For once I managed to develop a stinker of a cold in sync with a leg injury. Having a stinking cold when you can't run anyway is like having a cold for free. Trust me, it's a great feeling.

That's not to suggest I'm out of the hamstrung woods just yet.
Nicola, my physio, welcomed me this evening with all the concern of a worried parent .
'How's it been then' she asked, brow furrowed, hands warmed and ready to probe.
I told her I'd had no reaction to the molestation she'd administered on Tuesday, other than the area has been extremely sore. She seemed happy with this, and proceeded to get right back into the muscle with an enthusiasm I found mildly alarming.

The prognosis is better; the knotted muscle (where part of the muscle had torn, the remaining strands had bunched up in a protective knott) was breaking down much easier, allowing her to push my leg back over my head (again, my perception) a lot easier than was the case on Tuesday. She explained that she pushes her finger into the knott from the side (I refrained from pointing out that under new RFU laws you get penalised for entering a ruck or maul from the side) and 'wiggles it about' until the knott frees up. At this point we resume stretches.

I have to say all this seems to be paying off. The only yardstick I have is the amount of resistance/ pain involved in stretching, and tonight it really did feel a lot easier.

I'm an odd sort of bloke really. Quite often I'll 'feel myslef up' - hang on, don't switch off just yet. Besides, most blokes do, whether they're big enough to admit it or not. To be clear, I'll subconciously run a hand over my hamstrings to 'gague my fitness'. Ordinarily (just walking around the office or the house) I'll do this and marvel at how 'firm' they feel. I've always taken this to be a positive sign, that I'm making progress, developing stronger legs.
This, I now accept, is complete and utter tosh.
What I have managed to do is to crank up the tension in my legs to such a degree as to play double-bass on the contorted muscle groups. Just a few days of disciplined, supervised stretching has shown me that a happy hamstring (in normal, waddling about mode) is a relaxed hamstring.

As for Sunday, I've agreed to enter the race, but I won't be racing.
I'll be doing a 13.1 mile training run surrounded by 2000 fellow runners. Nicola recommends reducing my stride length slightly, keeping the thought of 'running within myself' throughout.
'If you do that, and you get through without incident, you may be surprised at your time' she offered with an encouraging smile. She's off to consider her entry for the London to Brighton 55 mile race later in the year. She plans to run 8:30 miles. Bloody hell, it's another world.

For me, knowing I'm going to start a Half on Sunday, I can belatedly build the excitement. SP's been on about meeting up before the start, and my fellow Lewesians (Telly Tubbies no longer) Tim and Simon are both in. Whatever happens it'll be a great day, and win lose or draw you'll hear all about it right here.