A slow, comfortable 10km yesterday kicked off February in nice style. And for this run I one-upped all you mp3 and DAB-carrying runners - for the entire 10km I had my own personal guitarist thrashing out a few tunes My mate James had his guitar with him and knocked out a heap of stuff in time to my metronomic poundings on the treadmill. No Deep Purple or Spiderbait (he's a purely classical guitarist) but a new and enjoyable, if not slightly odd experience...
It was probably just as well he was there - whilst I had my usual picture window view of the Derwent River, all I saw during the run was one lousy ferry and four tiny kayaks. Of course, within ten minutes of finishing, the river was suddenly full of outrageously colourful yachts and assorted sundry water craft out for the Wednesday afternoon races. Oh well, I sat down and watched them instead while rehydrating.
Tomorrow, it's back to the lovely but evil Rebecca for another torture session. If I survive, I shall report back then.
The lovely, but evil Rebecca - she who drains my health fund dry - is finding new and awful ways to inflict pain most foul upon my increasingly nervous legs. I'll spare you the gruesome details except to say that I admire her ability to home in on the problem spot(s) precisely. That's the easy bit - but then she manipulates them (her word) in her physiotherapist's way and then berates my whimpering when I regain consciousness. I asked for a rebate for time spent unconscious but she just slaps me about some more and laughs maniacally.
I'm joking of course - she doesn't actually laugh much at all.
However she keeps me running, and I'm sure without her I would have quite likely given up in frustration by now. Certainly the problem bits (knees, ankles, sensibilities) are less problematic and getting stronger. Which makes a little bit of excruciating agony every couple of weeks seemingly, er, worthwhile.
After yesterday's session with her I had a couple of beers with my brother to regain a level of composure before - doh - remembering I hadn't done my scheduled run for the day yet. Fortunately it was just a short fartlek session, and after much rehydrating hit the treadmill just about 2 hours after draining two large, full-strength beers. In the name of science, I can dutifully report no impaired performance, and a good run was had. Perhaps it was the physio?
I can happily report that in the nearly two months since I returned to the running fold, I have made slow, but steady progress, and can now run 10km again in relative comfort. Slow, to be sure, but 10km is 10km. I am building my weekly mileage by adding 10% extra distance per week with a step-back week thrown in each month or so. With lots of physiotherapy, it's holding together and looking more hopeful with each run. So, if I survive the physiotherapy, I can look forward to some races in the coming months.
But for the moment, I have a home-torture program to do
Great news of your progress, MLCM. 10km is a really good stretch. For me, that's at least an hour, which is a good workout. If you've reached that level, you're doing fine. You've got the right approach - steady, incremental progress. Remember to give yourself time off now and then, either by reducing your mileage one week, or even just taking a whole week off. It does you good.
Don't completely give up on good food and alcohol though. We'd hate to see you waste away.
El Gordo
Great things are done when men and mountains meet.
andy Wrote:Don't completely give up on good food and alcohol though. We'd hate to see you waste away.
No chance of that. I'm of the firm opinion that running should be fun. It's a solitary enough activity as it is without cramping your epicurean adventures and isolating you from friends and family as well.
Balance and moderation. Well, sometimes. Occasionally you have to dive overboard
Mid Life Crisis Man Wrote:Balance and moderation. Well, sometimes. Occasionally you have to dive overboard
You might like to have a word with our tournament nutritionalist, MLCMan.
Having seen him on a bike and engaged in his re-hydration program last weekend I seriously doubt that he knows the meaning of 'balance' and 'moderation'
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
Your researches into his moderation levels were very dedicated, Sweder. I seem to recall you stayed with him every step of the way on his 14 hour Guinness and Rioja excursion. Very admirable.
El Gordo
Great things are done when men and mountains meet.
A worringly painful left knee (with no discernible cause) has resulted in a cassation of running for a few days. Frustrating, but it has made me all the more determined. Reading the exploits of the RC running warriors in Almeria, and Glaconman's marathon in Bombay have also kept me inspired in the meantime. Legends!
Currently looking for new digs has kept me busy of late, and I'm wondering if running up and down countless stairs in pokey houses and ducking and weaving and generally avoiding real estate agents has somehow jarred the offending patella.
Must settle down and brew more beer. Perhaps I'm not drinking enough?
Would one day love to see (or read about) a head to head between MLCM and Sweder involving running and beer. May I suggest an event from my old friends at the Axe Valley Runners...http://www.lmrbean.plus.com/avr/events/midsummer.htm
The course record stands at 13 pints of Guinness put away during the 20 mile off road circuit by Mr Jim Wallace, a fireman of repute http://www.jim-wallace.co.uk/events/2003...062003.htm
Each glorious pint is recorded for posterity. Check out the last one where Mr Wallace finally keels over outside The Hook and Parrot on Seaton seafront. It's one of my great sporting moments...don't do this at home kids.
I'd read about Jim Wallace before . . . probably from a post on here some time ago. Flattered though I am by comparison I fear I have some way to go to match the impossible endurance and constitution of the man.
No harm in trying, though . . .
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
After 5 days of non-running due to inexplicable and really annoying knee pain that caused me to limp noticeably, it all cleared up overnight and I was able to notch up 75 minutes of slightly testing, but wonderfully non-stop trouble-free running. This was so encouraging that the following day I walked the entire length of a 24 kilometre bush track that I'm keen to run in the near future. It's actually a 12 kilometre track accessible from only one end, and is very slightly uphill (1:60 gradient) going out, and (obviously) downhill coming back. And picturesque to boot.
So a good couple of days. Apart from some mild calf and quad stiffness, all is well in the bod department. I've also spent an inordinate amount of time house hunting, working and even managed to get a barrell of beer brewing. And pretty soon I hope to have a new, upgraded treadmill with lots of flashing lights and things that go ping.
*News flash* Continuing in the spirit of scientific inquiry, soon after my 75 minute (12 km) run, I drank copious quantities of beer. I am happy to report that the prolonged run had no deleterious impact on my drinking. Something of a relief, I assure you.
BB, I hasten to point out that beer drinking is a participatory sport. I'm sure Sweder and I would be happy to oblige you, but you would be expected to do your bit!
On that happy thought, I must away and look up the Jim Wallace training schedule.
Marvelous news indeed, brother Crisis.
You have to wonder if your rebellious knees were making a desperate bid to curtail your hitherto excellent recovery. Knees can be like that; my own gave me some serious grief on Sunday, reminding me why I had to stop trying to knock inflated pig bladders into onion bags on wet Sunday mornings.
Your unabashed sinking of ale in abundance underpins that inner steel so familiar to regular readers of these columns. Are you listening, knees? Give it up!
That bush trail sounds interesting.
A man could work up quite a thirst running that
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
One of those inverse law days - really, really tired, under nourished and feeling utterly crap. But, with no real injury concerns I had to do my scheduled 5km and it was a beaut one. Started real slow but felt good after a few minutes and turned in my fastest 5km for over 2 years!
I feel now I have turned a corner, or reached a new level. I haven't been confident enough to say thus far that everything is working out right, but just at this moment, it seems as if I can pull this one out the hat after all. Exactly what that "this one" is, I don't know, but I think I can at least set a couple of modest goals for the year, e.g. 5km and 10km PBs and at least a half marathon, if not even the mountain climb Point to Pinnacle 21.4km race in November.
Sometimes the inverse law doesn't work. Somehow today I just knew this was going to be a bitch of a run, and it was. Someone once said, "sooner or later, we all sit down to a banquet of consequences." I think today I at least had the entree. This follows several days of too much of everything bad and too little of everything good, and it culminated this afternoon in a "I'm never ever going to do this again" type of run.
Well, actually I exaggerate (purely for impact of course). It was the first 5km that killed. The second 5km? Well, that killed too, but in a slightly less nasty way.
I ran the mountain trail that I mentioned earlier. The "Pipeline Track" runs on a gentle 1:60 gradient through fern glades and eucalypt rain forest along the flanks of Mt.Wellington. It's a great place to run. Graded for cyclists, it's a good surface, there are relatively few people using it, and those that do are all friendly and considerate. But I only ran it because the brand new super you-beaut flashing lights and gizmos that go "ping" treadmill that was delivered on Friday travelled an astonishing 240 metres before dying in a hail of software errors that same Friday evening - grinding to a halt and obstinately refusing to yield to any kind of prodding and poking and nosing around in its innards. And does the supplier work on Saturdays? No, the supplier does not. Bang goes my training program, with no option but to hit the real world outside.
Oh well, worse things happen at sea. Or so I'm told. Why they should particularly happen on the oceans blue is beyond me. And what do they mean? Do they mean that treadmills not only don't work at all, but somehow are injurious to your health? Or perhaps this is not meant to be taken literally and actually refers to any kind of fitness equipment?
Anyway. I digress.
So hit the trail I did, and immediately was in trouble. Intent on taking it easy, I was none the less disappointed to pass the 1km mark in 6:37 - crikey, I'm going to be here all day, I thought. As there were no more kilometre markers until my turn point at 5km, I settled in as best I could, but failed totally to find any rhythm, resulting in the dreaded "why am I doing this?" and "God I never want to do this again" type thoughts. It was something of a pleasant surprise therefore to stumble across the 5km marker at 31:21, as I felt I had, if anything, slowed down and would be looking at closer to 34 minutes for the 5kms.
I had promised myself a walk/drink break at 5km so I about faced and chugged some isotonic stuff for a minute or so before trotting off again. Another new thing for me today was to run with a water belt. This was far less uncomfortable than I feared, and in the circumstances, a bloody excellent idea.
The downhill run was of course less troublesome, and I even began to feel good around the 8km mark, thanks to Rammsteins "Du Hast", perhaps a slightly negative choice of music, but actually it imposed itself on me and in any case did the trick. I ran the last km in a relatively blistering 5:11 (which, running the other way had taken me 6:37 at the start of the run), for a total time of 60:56. Perhaps a little disapponting not to break the hour, but I was just bloody glad to get back again in reasonable shape.
Apart from the scenery, the run was made more tolerable by the appearance of several wallabies along the way - that's the cute little furry hopping creatures, not the big ugly rugby player-type wallabies of course (see examples of both below if unsure). Though there are naturally plenty of sporting bods running and cycling about the place. Seriously fit looking people they were too. Not good for my self esteem if I let that sort of thing bother me, which of course I don't. No really, I don't. Never give it a second thought. Honestly!
So after limping back home and applying ice to those bits of my legs that don't normally have much to do on the flatness of the treadmill, I let the endorphins kick in and changed my mind about never wanting to do that again.
In fact I can't wait. A funny thing, this running game
I don't know why that song was in my mind then, but it's hardly appropriate. Here, it's yet another grey, damp cold Sunday morning in southern England, and I'm off to trudge a 20 mile race.
I'm even thinking of breaking a rule of mine, and taking my new iPod with me. Is nothing sacred?
But thanks for the update, MLCM. There'll be no wallabies here, just the plangent bleating of sheep, and, yes, the lonesome cry of the curlew.... Report later.
El Gordo
Great things are done when men and mountains meet.
Another crap run. Nothing felt right at all and I had to bail out at the 4km mark. Only consolation was that the trusty HRM suggested my heart rate was good, indicating underlying fitness was there but not issueing forth this day. Plus it's still 4km in the bank. That much can't be undone.
And I haven't had a beer in three days... ah, therein perhaps lies the problem.
I've always found Fridays to be rather odd days for me. I don't know why, but I suspect it has something to do with many years of shift work, where the end of the week is rarely Friday, is even more rarely at 5 p.m. I've never therefore been one of the regular "let's have a few drinks after work on Friday evenings" kind of guy. Or, as my brother and his office colleagues call it, "DAWFNAR" - Drinks After Work For No Apparent Reason.
It could also be because I was born on a Friday. A Friday the 13th, as it happens (my father still calls me "Jonah" to this day). The same date (but not year) as Margaret Thatcher ... although she wasn't born on a Friday. Even so, it gives me cause to pause for thought when considering my birthday, and Fridays in general.
Interestingly, there are two phobias connected with my birthday - triskaidekaphobia, which is the fear of the number 13 or the date Friday the 13th, and paraskevidekatriaphobia, which is the more particular fear of Friday the 13th.
I have no particular reason for mentioning these, other than the fact that I am skirting around the issue of missing my scheduled run today.
Instead I did something very typically Fridarian. I had had a very long, tormenting and tiresome day, and finally found myself driving home, passing crowded pubs full of Friday evening after-works DAWFNAR-type drinkers, enjoying the delightful summer weather which I had been totally unable to enjoy.
I was contemplating attending to my running schedule when I suddenly found myself driving into one of my local pubs - formerly called the Aberfeldy, but now known as Bridie O'Reilly's (yes, the cult of Irish pubs has not escaped Aussie shores) - either way, it has always had a fair collection of British and other imported exotic beers, and it was to this section of the bottle shop I found myself being drawn.
And sooooo, rather than grind out a few k's on the treadmill, I instead drank two rather splendid English brews - purely in the name of research of course. This came about because I ran across a recipe for a chocolate stout that I rather want to make, and in the spirit of inquiry I naturally had to check out some competition. I was delighted to find Young's double choc version of same, and could also not resist checking out the Theakston Old Peculier, of which I had heard more than a few positive remarks.
The end result has been a very pleasant evening on the deck/patio whatever you call such things in your part of the world, watching the boats on the water and enjoying the cool air, whilst simultaneously scouring the RC forum, thanks to our wireless broadband (finally set up after many weeks of frustration, and then one 5 minute phone call to the person who actually knew what he was doing)...
For beer-o-philes, my reviews of said beers are thus:
Theakston Old Peculier Legendary Strong Ale. 5.6%. A smooth, dark and enticing ale of a rather fuller figure. A very good ale, though slightly insipid compared to my strong ale benchmark, the Malt Shovel Brewery's James Squire Strong Ale. Still, a great 4 out 5 beer.
Young's Luxury Double Chocolate Stout. 5.2%. Best drunk well chilled, when the strong dark-chocolate flavours predominate. A ripper, this. A world away from Guinness of course, but then this isn't trying to be like anything. Very, very rich and mega-yummy. 4.5 out of 5.
Fab Feb
My mate James had his guitar with him and knocked out a heap of stuff in time to my metronomic poundings on the treadmill. No Deep Purple or Spiderbait (he's a purely classical guitarist) but a new and enjoyable, if not slightly odd experience...
![[Image: coupla%20beers.jpg]](http://www.sandarac.com.au/misc/coupla%20beers.jpg)
![[Image: english%20beer.jpg]](http://www.sandarac.com.au/misc/english%20beer.jpg)