May 2007 - It All Starts Here

[Sweder]

Kicking off this month with a physio session as reality settles down in Swederville.
It's been a stunning year, from Paris to Cape Town by way of Almería and Steyning. Now is the time for assessment, for rational thought. And to fix one or two ailments before they become serious.

May will start for me not with a run but with a session of physiotherapy on my battered calf. Technically both legs are going to get it but the right one needs the attention more. At lunchtime today the good parishoners of East Grinstead will be treated to the muffled screams of a man having three-week-old lactic acid squeezed from his legs; it'll be like trying to get juice out of a shrivelled old orange. I can think of a hundred things I'd rather be doing this lunchtime - some involve cold, dark drinks, others sunny loping through breezy hills. But this is where I need to be the most.

For now I'll content myself with reading about the exploits of others.
We have our own band of athletes setting out on a variety of quests, each one as exciting and challenging as the next. Good luck to all.

[Sweder]

An interesting article appeared on the BBC Sport website this morning.
It looks at the rise of competitive Ultra running in the UK, and the active search for future stars.

I shan't be applying any time soon, but I did enjoy the article as it features rare news of British sporting success.

[stillwaddler]

7mins 12secs per mile for a 100K...unbelievable. I'd be happy with that over 3k:-(

[Sweder]

I guess it's all relative . . . even so, sounds like an activity with which I am unfamiliar . . . my TOM experience panned out at around 11 mm :o

There again SW, do these people face the same hurdles that we struggle to overcome? I saw no mention of Guinness or any hop/ yeast/ grape-related products.
Hardly comparable

[Sweder]

So I toddled off down to the local LA Fitness sweatshop where I’d booked in for a lunchtime massage. I did this for a couple of reasons, the main one being if I made this part of my working day I might actually go ahead and do it.

My practitioner today was Annie, a charming lady, petite, with a soft Scots accent – how appropriate on this, the three hundredth anniversary of the formation of the Union. We discussed my running history and I grinned like a fool as I confessed to abusing my body by running hundreds of miles without so much as a cursory check-up. When I revealed that I ran marathons Annie’s ears pricked up.
‘In that case we’ll need to test your muscles’ she said. A worrying smile spread across her face, her eyes widening.
‘Er, yes . . .and what would that entail?’ Quiver. Gibber. Twitch.
‘Kinesiology.’
Ah yes . . . Kinsey-ology . . . er . . . wasn’t he the bloke who discovered sexual proclivities and wrote books on . . . oh no, that was Kinsey. Right. Shut up and listen.
‘And that is . . . ?’
‘Kinesiology refers to the study of muscles and movement in the body – first off we’re going to find out how strong – or otherwise- your quads, hamstrings and calves are. I’ll need to do that if I’m to treat you properly.’
I started to sweat gently at this point. My wife will tell you that I have a basic dislike of being fiddled with, in the poke-and-prod, in-front-of-the-telly-massage kind of way. This sounded like more of that.

Actually it wasn’t so bad, a series of resistance tests to ascertain the apparent strength of each muscle, then a repeat using magnets and applying pressure to points somewhere adjacent to my sub-clavian (in a sort of Spok-subdues-the-baddie style), at which point my initially strong fibres appeared to turn into soft noodles. It turns out my hammies are pumped, in great shape; they look strong, they feel strong and by golly they are strong. My quads, however, are flattering to deceive; warm liquorice would have offered more resistance to Annie’s determined efforts to push down my legs on the quad test. She prescribed a daily intake of vitamin B Complex - 'perfect for quads.'

As for my calves . . . well, I knew what to expect.
Oh they’re fine and dandy, strong as wee oxen, provided they’re emptied of all that nasty, three-week-old lactic acid. And there’s the rub. Or several rubs, some finger pressing, flesh squeezing and a good deal of silent towel-chewing by yours truly. Not as savage as the Mighty Kader it’s true, but I could feel the rot being pushed into my knees by those small yet deceptively iron-like fingers.

‘Drink plenty after this – helps to flush the bad stuff out of the system.’
I immediately pictured a squadron of freshly-poured pints lined up for inspection. As if the image had appeared above my head Annie let out a wee chuckle.
‘That’ll be water I’m talking about.’
Of course.

I have to say I’m feeling a darned site better now than when I went in. We did locate a particularly dogged enclave of badness in my right calf. It’s still there, though much depleted; another session or two will winkle it out. For me it’s the green light for a return to some light training – long overdue. Against all considered wisdom (surely not! – ed) I might try an evening downland trudge; then again, an early morning blat to Blackcap might be better. The mend is nigh!

[Sweder]

Spring has sprung. Winter's cold kiss is just a memory; warm summer breezes stir the dust on the dry mud trails over the Sussex hills.

The hounds dragged me to Blackcap early this morning, happy to see me stagger down stairs in running garb. My legs were understandably wobbly after ten days of sloth, and if I'm honest I found the going a little tough. Ring rust perhaps; we'll see. I couldn't have picked a finer morning; strong early sunshine tempered by a cool zephyr out of the west. Clear skies, perfect views of the Sussex lowlands, the Big W shining across the Kingston valley.

Track du jour?
Well, I got through a fair amount of Girlschool - I'm really fond of this band. Their early stuff is good honest rock 'n' roll, never quite matching the growling menace or raucous pace of Motorhead, but given my long association with them - blimey, over 25 years now! - it's like running with old friends. Recent offerings - 21st Anniversary and Believe - show maturity and depth, providing some rollocking good running tunes.

As I crested Wicker Man Hill on the return leg, the stables and sunlit cliffs beyond and below me, Rick Wakeman slipped in to steal today's accolade. Roundabout by Yes with its rumbling bass and skittering, fairground keyboards offered the perfect, somewhat lighter soundtrack for this idyllic scene. Give it a listen if you get the chance, and watch out for the unmistakable riff from I'm Just A Love Machine flowing through the song. I kid you not.

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

Roundabout by Yes with its rumbling bass and skittering, fairground keyboards offered the perfect, somewhat lighter soundtrack for this idyllic scene.

Ah, an old favourite! But I'd not considered it as running material before. I'll slip it into the mp3-thingy and give it a whirl.

Good to see you keeping the hounds happy. My dog hasn't run since doing her cruciate ligament last year, and is no longer the same happy dog she once was. So keep 'em happy while you can!

[El Gordo]

Steve Howe was quite a guitar hero of mine back in those days. Haven't heard Yes for years, but will try to look them up.

I like this Track du Jour thing. I've been thinking of (gulp) adding a feature to the site to allow people to log them so we can keep a record of them. I'll tackle it straight after I get the Almeria video sorted out.

[Sweder]

I like this Track du Jour thing. I've been thinking of (gulp) adding a feature to the site to allow people to log them so we can keep a record of them. I'll tackle it straight after I get the Almeria video sorted out.

Yes! Another commercial enterprise is born . . .
[SIZE="4"]NOW THAT'S WHAT I CALL RUNNING COMMENTARY VOLUME 14 . . .[/SIZE]

[Sweder]

Runs can be like London buses; you don't see one for ages, then two come along together.
Determined to shake off my recent running hebetude and to test the apparent indolence in my limbs I set off this morning under partly cloudy skies. Yesterday's breeze had picked up the pace, and mercifully so did my legs, somewhere between miles three and four. I felt relief, settling into a familiar rhythm, my ample plates slapping out a welcome-home beat on the dusty trail.

Track du jour was bound to be determined by whatever popped up on the i-plod at this moment of recovery. Just so happened to be Achillies Last Stand, the song that bounced around in my head during my quest for the TOM. Fitting really - Led Zep Too are gigging at the All-Saints in Lewes tonight. They're reckoned to be the finest (most accurate) tribute to the Masters. Typically I've learned about this too late to procure tickets in advance. That won't stop me skulking around the entrance this evening on the off-chance.

[El Gordo]

Hebetude.

I see.

Have you seen The Hamsters? I haven't either.

http://www.thehamsters.co.uk/

One day I will. I've had a number of close shaves.

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

...Determined to shake off my recent running hebetude...

Hmm. I had to look this one up as well.

Hebetude. n. dullness; obtuseness; bluntness.

Hardly that, Sweder. But thanks for extending my vocabulary.

[El Gordo]

I even looked up "obtudeness" before the edit.

[Sweder]

Hamsters? Nope, not as yet, though they look well worth a look on the pub circuit. And that's the attraction of these tribute types; you can see them in a pub, usually close up, the cost is minimal and if they're crap (they rarely are) you can up sticks and find another pub.

[Sweder]

Hebetude. n. dullness; obtuseness; bluntness.

Hardly that, Sweder. But thanks for extending my vocabulary.

heb·e·tude/ˈhɛbɪˌtud, -ˌtyud/ [heb-i-tood, -tyood]
–noun the state of being dull; lethargy.

I think 'dullness' wraps it up nicely.
Although lethargy would have sufficed it's nice to use a different term now and again, and I rather enjoyed the sound of the word. I'm speaking of my running performance rather than the surroundings don't forget. There was lethargy and dullness by the bucketful out there yesterday.

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

I even looked up "obtudeness" before the edit.

Sorry. My spell chocker's not working.

[Sweder]

Surely 'spill chocker'.
Oh sorry, this is unrelated to beer

[Seafront Plodder]

How very verisimilitudulous of you MLC. :p

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

How very verisimilitudulous of you MLC. :p

No, I'm really quite verisimilitudulousnessless.

[Sweder]

No, I'm really quite verisimilitudulousnessless.

Is that like Singapore Noodles?