Murderous March

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

I saw a TV programme recently - one of those where they train an ordinary Joe Blogs to see if he can reach an elite level in their chosen sport. In this case it was a middle-aged cyclist who wanted to be part of an elite relay team for a long distance race across the USA. The coaching staff gave him every opportunity and he put in a decent effort, and the documentary makers did an excellent job of capturing every aspect of the training - the determination, the torment, the fatigue, the jealousy of rival riders and so on.

In the end, he qualified for the squad and travelled to the USA but couldn't make the final team. The poignant moment was powerfully and beautifully captured by the film maker when the team coach called this guy out to the hotel car park and had him sit in the team mini-bus for a few minutes, before sitting beside him and telling him the sad news that he'd failed to make the team.

It was like watching a man go to the gallows. As soon as he was called out to the car park he sensed what was going to happen next. By making him sit in the bus by himself for a few minutes, he had time to compose himself for what was to come, but that didn't stop the whole gamut of emotions being displayed when he was actually told - a mix of bitter disappointment, disillusionment and anger that months of probably the hardest work he had ever had to do had come to nothing. Not just come to nothing, but had firstly come so close to succeeding before finally fading away to oblivion.

I was thinking of that whilst thumbing through old copies of Sports Illustrated in the physiotherapist's waiting room this afternoon. I knew what was coming, and to be fair, the comparison is completely inappropriate. In reality, my chances of success are still pretty darn good; and the delay caused by my now having to visit a sports podiatrist for orthotics is just that - a delay, but one which will (apparently) allow me to move on and reach my running goals after all, as Rebecca (the physio) is full of confidence that the problem is 100% bio-mechanical and "easily" remedied with a prescription orthotic.

It does however, mean a reduction in running for a few weeks (she was asking for a complete cessation, but realised that simply wasn't going to happen). She was so sympathetic however that she didn't even hurt me this time, instead giving my feet and shins something much more akin to a massage than the usual Hades Torture Institute Entrance Exam treatment.

Since then, in typical style my knees and shins have given me a right old "told you so" bollocking, flaring up with self-satisfied fervour, safe in the knowledge that I won't be pounding them into submission quite so much for a while. But their Waterloo is approaching, mark my words. It will take longer than we hoped, but it will happen.

The good news, as delivered by Rebecca, was that the damage (ie callousing) to the shin tendons is minor and won't require any other special treatment than time and orthotics.

So my appointment with the podiatrist is next Thursday. In the meantime, I will continue to run a little, but it will doubtless be with more than a little muttering and cursing.