February 2005 - Week 2

[Sweder]

Review of week 1: 29.6 miles
That will be tough to beat. Almería Medio Maratón was fabulous; huge fun, great company and a good run to cap it all. The rest of the week was relatively easy (intended) and as a result I feel pretty fresh going into what will be a more strenuous 7 days.

[Sweder]

Time of day: 19:15 Hrs
Location: Lewes town centre lope
Distance: 4.1 miles
Duration: 37:19
Conditions: Cold, Fog

Early this morning I felt buoyant, chipper, up for a bit of cross-country recovery.
By 7pm tonight I was hobbling, stiff-legged, tired, hungry and up for some serious sofa-hogging. But this is to be a more dedicated week, a 40 mile week, and there's no room for slackers.

A double circuit of the town tonight; time to break in the Adistars.
I put them on and immediately panicked as they felt loose around the ankles. I reminded myself there should be a bit of room, as these boots will see me round the 26.2 in April and will accommodate seriously hot, swollen trotters.

10 minutes in and I'm very comfy in the shoe department. An uneventful lope tonight, mostly due to the hideous soundtrack courtesy of Radio One and something called Zane Low. Mr Low is a Kiwi with a liking for new and not terribly good rock. Ordinarily I'd've plumped for Planet Rock on the DAB, but I know only too well it can be Norman Collier reception quality in the town, so I opted for the safer FM broadcast.

I almost went around for an unplanned third loop, so far had my frontal lobes retreated into my skull in a vain attempt to escape the barrage of banality chirping through my earphones. I'm sure there was the occasional music track in there, but it was hard to know for sure.

Track tomorrow, and there's the threat of a serious Seaford off-roader with SP later in the week, including the monstrous Seaford Head climb

[Sweder]

Time of day: 19:30 Hrs
Location: Withdean Stadium running track
Conditions: Dry, cool, FOG CITY!

Circuit: (tonights' times in brackets)
Warm up (1 x 400 metres, gentle jog untimed)
1 x 300 metres (01:11)
1 x 800 metres (03:31)
1 x 300 metres (01:05)
1 x 800 metres (03:35)
2 x 300 metres (01.08, 01:08)
1 x 800 metres (03:41)
2 x 300 metres (01:11, 01:08)
1 x mile (07:27)
Cool down gentle lope 400 mters untimed

Tough old slog tonight. I was pretty tired having driven to London for a Microsoft gig at Chelsea FC. I tried to slip something nasty into the water supply but got ejected before completion (NB: for legal purposes I would like to clarify this is a (weak) gag). Nett result I got home having escaped West London at 4pm, enjoyed a gentle drive through Putney, a pleasant detour through Richmond Park, coffee with me dear old Mum in Kingston and a Whacky Races session on the M23.

My calves were whinging shamelessly tonight. It might have been the Lewes loops last night in the new boots; it could have been the last couple of miles on Sunday. I was taking no chances and, armed with an impressive array of excuses, donned an old pair of runners (FLM 2004 vintage) determined to hit the track and finish the circuits.

The stats don't tell the story of tonight's session. Times were generally a second or two better than last week, and the mile was 7 seconds quicker. But this hurt. Plausible reasons to bail out half way through the evening emerged, as they often do during track work, from the dusty shadows of my tortured mind. These bad thoughts are like Gremlins, if fed after dark the results can be apocalyptic, so they must never reach the outside world. Tonight they were banging on the door demanding release, and it took serious teeth-grinding effort to keep them incarcerated.

One of the Sunday regulars (Fit Large Man, aka Laurence) is convinced the track sessions cause him damage. Withdean is apparently notoriously 'bouncy', and has been known to hammer hamstrings and calves. Laurence voted with his (sore) feet and was a no-show tonight. I'll have to review the aftermath on my day of rest tomorrow and take a view. There's no doubt the disciplined speed sessions help, but they can be replicated elsewhere.

Thought for the day:
You know you're getting old when the wife says
'Let’s go upstairs and make love'
and you think to yourself
'I can't do both'

[Sweder]

Time: 07:30 Hrs
Location: South Downs Lewes - Black Cap - Loop
Distance: 5 miles
Time: 48:35
Conditions: Light rain, strong winds (westerly)
Companions: 3 hounds
Soundtrack: Panet Rock

SP had invited me for a 6 mile in town lope last night, but I had to bail after leaving work too late. Last night the decision looked a good'un as I slumped on the sofa after supper. This morning it looked rather less clever.

Not only was I still knackered (it took 3 'snooze' alarms to get my corpse out of bed) but the weather had taken a turn for the worse. I squinted out of the bathroom window. Are those trees bending? Hmmm. And that wet stuff falling past the window . . . rain. Nice.

Wired for sound, stopwatch set, I plodded out into the maelstrom.
A gentle ascent for the first half mile, the strains of ELO’s Rockaria for company. I never really got into ELO in the 70’s, but I always smile when I hear the occasional tune these days. Comfortable nostalgia perhaps.
No time for sentimental crap like that this morning; there’s a battle raging up ahead and I’m headed straight for it.

As we reached the stables I realised we had enjoyed an element of shelter on the first mile. This first section is run to the East of the ridge of the downs. At the stables the ridge flattens out opening the track to the Westerly approach, and, this morning, to the full force of the wind. I pushed on, safe in the knowledge that another half mile would see us once again sheltered by the thorn bushes that line the route alongside the gallops. And so it proved.

Into the sheep fields, Foreigners’ Cold As Ice in the earphones (although in fairness cold was not an issue – I’d generated enough heat on the climb to warm an old people’s home). The wide-eyed occupants wisely sheltered in the relative calm of the South Easterly corner. I climbed the first of two steep sections that lead to Black Cap. Once again exposed to the elements this proved tough, and I took a walk break at the mini-summit. The final climb to our turn-around point is only about 150 metres, but the incline is severe, and coming at the end of a 2.5 mile rise it has a kick to it. Reaching the summit proper I took a minute to enjoy the view and take on water. The half way split was 27:24, respectable in the conditions.

And off again. ‘Here’s a little-known Led Zepplin track from Led Zep Four . . . ‘
Stairway to Heaven. Possibly one of the best known Zeppelin tracks but for all that a meisterwerk, especially the second section where Bonham pounds in with one of the finest examples of controlled drum fury in rock.

With the wind slightly behind me and mostly downhill ahead I set off at a fair old lick towards home. It’s a great feeling, hammering down soft downland hills, the wind at your back, almost effortless. Back to the sheltered, stony track, the hounds now at my heels, a pack reformed. On to the stables, the Who’s Baba O’Riley blasting into my ears. I hardly noticed the slight incline back to the yards, skipping through the last gate and onto the road through the courtyard.

Some lads struggled to unload a thoroughbred from a horsebox, several of them forming a human shield to prevent escape should the skittish animal break free. I wondered just how effective a 150 lb man would be trying to stop a ton of rampant horseflesh on the charge . . .

. . . and then it happened. No, not the horse. Something of more immediate concern, something we all fear and rarely talk about in these circles: injury on a run. A marble, about the size of a one-er, appeared, suddenly, at the back of my right leg, 4 inches above the back of my knee. Hamstring!!? I thought, easing off the gas. What to do? How bad is it? How long will I be out . . . ? A slideshow of nightmare scenarios flashed across my brain. But hang on – it’s not a sharp pain, and it’s not getting any worse. Shall I limp on? Will I cause more damage?

I carried on through the yard into the last sheep field and the gentle descent into Lewes. Usually this is my finishing straight, the last 500 metres of full-bore, downhill blast before another 500 metre cool down to home. Not today.
I ran/ limped at ½ pace, focused on the injury (?), which was holding steady but felt like it was looking for an excuse to rare up at any moment.

Finally back to the road, through my gate and into the house.
Gentle stretching and massage ensued, but I could find no evidence of the problem except a general soreness/ tenderness in the area.

I finished in 48:35 (irrelevant other than to complete the stats for the run).
Even with the limp, 21.11 is pretty quick for the second 2.5 miles. It’s possible with the tail wind, downhill momentum and euphoria at finally escaping the battering of the climb I’d inadvertently raced too hard. Time will tell. I’m working late tonight and scheduled to repeat the run tomorrow, so I’ll have to see how it feels tonight.

[Antonio247]

I hope you´ll get better soon. Take it easy, Ashley!

By the way, I also did an 8 km run early this morning but it wasn´t so windy or rainy. The temperature was quite nice, 13-14 Celsius. I also went up - I started at carretera de Sierra Alhamilla and took avenida del Mediterráneo but crossing the bridge we didn´t climb at the half marathon and went up part of the avenue to come back later.


Best wishes

Antonio

[Sweder]

Thanks Antonio. I wish I could have joined you this morning - I am sure the warmer weather would have prevented my injury. The leg is still a little sore but I still do not know the extent of the damage. I will try to run slowly tomorrow to see how it feels.

[Sweder]

Following the hamstring scare on Thursday I elected to take 24 hours off and miss my Friday jaunt. As often happens in these cases I now feel great, raring to go, but I'll stick to my game plan and go for a gentle toddle around the town tomorrow morning.

The break in training has allowed me to eat with the family this evening for the first time in a while, which is great. Even better we had bangers and mash with cabbage and pools of thick gravy - well, if you're going to take a break it may as well be whole-hearted. I'm off to the pub for a few pints of the Black stuff.

[Sweder]

Time: 13:00 Hrs
Location: Lewes – South Downs
Distance: Appx 4 miles
Duration: 35:09
Conditions: Warm, sunny, strong breeze (Westerly)
Companions: 3 hounds

I decided against a town lope. I’m scheduled for a 16 mile off-road jaunt tomorrow morning, and I need to know if the hamstring is up to the off-road buffeting. I opted for shorts (easy access!) and wore the Tubigrip™ support bandage on my right thigh.

Very gentle start uphill towards the dew pond and stables. I decided to cut my normal 5 mile run short, missing the toughest section (the climb to Black Cap). This would mean a decent workout without the excess strain of the steepest climb.

I reached the stables and felt comfortable, still at a very modest pace. In line with the advice from Dr Foot I adjusted my stride pattern (shorter strides) to reduce the stretch on the hamstrings. I would of course be more likely to stretch out on the return/ down slope (with the wind), and told myself to concentrate on that thought at the turn. The footpath from the stables to the foot of Black Cap proved tricky, pools of muddy water surrounded by treacherous patches of sludge. I danced along the edges, taking advantage of the long grass flattened by cattle and horses, weaving around the occasional razor-sharp thorn bush.

The gate at the foot of Black Cap seemed a good place to turn. The split time of 19:46 for just under 2 miles was pretty good, and I wondered at how sometimes you can run ‘easily’ and yet stay pretty close to your usually pace.

Re-focused on a shorter stride pattern we set off down the mud track towards home. The wind at my back tempted acceleration, but I throttled back. My calves said good afternoon, and my right shin seemed a little uncomfortable. I welcomed the reports, the prominence of minor complaints meaning all's quiet in the hamstring department. The dogs rejoined me after their customary (fruitless) rabbit-hunt in the thickets behind the gallops. The descent through the (vacant) sheep field was without incident, apart from Willow (Cocker Spaniel) cooling off in the dew pond, submerged to her Pre-Raphaelite ears in the freezing, muddy water.

The round trip time of 35 minutes for just less than 4 miles reflects the easy pace, but the objective was achieved with no after-effects felt in the legs.

On reflection I believe my troubles this week have been exacerbated by poor stretching disciplines after runs. It’s easy to get blasé about post-run attention to the limbs, and I’ve been guilty of this of late. Not so now, though. Dr Foot’s Stretches here I come.

[El Gordo]

We're in sync at the moment, Sweder. I had a dodgy foot in midweek and missed a run, then did 4 miles today, and am due 16 tomorrow. The 16 was actually supposed to be today, but it sort of became 4. I've a funny feeling that your 16 miler might be more successful than mine.....

Glad to hear that the hamstring scare may be over, but definitely worth taking it a little easier than usual tomorrow.

[Sweder]

Funny how these niggles seem to appear every year.
Mine are related to my annual 7 month running sabatical. Parts of my body object strongly to sudden bouts of extreme exercise, eager to voice their displeasure. I will heed your advice Andy. I still want that PB next Sunday, and I won't get it in traction. Just to boost my confidence yet further I have a stinking cold this morning, there's a howling gale rattling the windows and some of the darkest clouds seen this year appear to be holding some sort of conference over my house.

Best get out there then

[El Gordo]

It's blowing a gale here. Rain splattering the rattling windows. I got up an hour ago for a banana and pint of water, ad couple of anti-inflammatories, and am currently in delaying tactics more. Must get out there within half an hour. Not t all confident about doing the distance. My toe is throbbing a bit again.

[Sweder]

I'll dispense with the stats and get straight to the juicy bits.
I can write in those terms now as I've got over the bitterness, deep resentment, crushing disappointment and dreadful feeling sorry for myself.

There was always a chance I'd blow up today and so it proved.
Mentally I approached the 16 miler, which incorporated my usual Sunday slog with the added attractions of the North Face (a 600 metre sheer climb through mud), the Yellow Brick Road (3/4 mile climb into the wind on corrugated concrete) and Death Valley (a perilous drop from the top of the Yellow Brick Road to the foot of the Snake), in positive mood. My -4 mile tester yesterday revealed no recurrence of the hamstring strain. The weather this morning was pretty bleak, but I thrive in wind and rain, spurred on to finish by the lure of a warm cafe with hot coffee and rock cakes, and set off for Brighton in positive mood.

My companions this morning huddled together above Brighton Marina, the horizon out to sea as black as Newgate's Knocker. As we embarked East, the wind at our backs, a squall blew up and with it came ice-cold rain.
'I'm sure there's actual ice in this rain' I announced cheerfully.
Blow me down, not 10 seconds had passed before the rain was officially hail.

We completed our warm(?) up, 3 cliff-top miles to Saltdean, in 30 minutes.
I stretched carefully, muscles warm(ish), as the group split into 12 and 16 mile camps. The 12 milers set off, and we held back for a further minute. I was cold, although the wind was free from moisture now and a weak, wintry sun threatened to emerge.

Off again, up the very steep climb to the foot of Telscombe Tye.
'This'll test my hamstring' I thought as I puffed my way to the memorial. Across the road and onto the Tye proper, and as if by magic I felt the dreaded familiar twinge in my right thigh.

I don't see myself as dumb, stupid or excessively thick. So it's odd then that I didn't just stop right there. The Idiot Within emerged.
'Run this off, it'll pass. You're tough, keep going. You know you love this run, stay strong'

I shortened my stride, but we were starting a 3/4 mile climb which I knew would get tougher. This was madness.
'Sorry guys, I've got to bail.' I held up my hand in apology as my comrades turned. I detected more than one expression of envy amongst the sympathetic faces. The Idiot Within receeded, his voice trailing off in the manner of a person falling down a very deep well. Noooooo . . .

Tony, our bike-mounted, psychedelic lycra-clad guide, offered me change for the bus back to the Marina.
'I'll be OK' I said, handing over my Gels in case someone else needed them.
'Have a good one'.

I must have cut the most forlorn figure, half plodding, half limping back down the field, backdrop framed by skies straight out of the Necrinomicon*. On the cell phone and a sheepish call home for emergency evac.

I took refuge in a bus shelter on the main road and marvelled at the speed with which the body can lose heat. Within 5 minutes I was shivering. Drivers heading into Brighton were treated to the sight of a middle-aged man in white running vest and Lycra dancing maniacally inside an all-glass cubicle, a bizarre cross between David Blaine and Leo Sayer. I huffed and puffed, scanning the horizon for Shayne’s car, all the while cocking an ear for the sound of sirens should some concerned Sussex Citizen report an apparent drug-fuelled, one-man rave in a bus shelter.

The enforced solitary confinement proved a useful time to overcome the feelings of failure and remorse. Now was the time for practical planning. With the Brighton Half in 7 days I needed a strategy. This should include religious application of RICE (Rest, Ice, Compression, Elevation) and REST (err... rest) and regular hamstring stretches. No running until Wednesday, when I will go to the home of Seafront Plodder and try 5 miles on the flat. If all goes well I will repeat the exercise on Friday, and if there's no reaction to that I will start the Brighton Half. Brighton is flat for the first 8 miles, and the hilly part is virtually my Sunday warm-up run. Above all, if there's any doubt, I'll have to give it a miss and put all my eggs into the Reading basket.

Positive planning helped lighten my mood, and I managed a cheery wave as Mrs Sweder pulled up. The interior of the car felt like the tropics. A kiss from my daughter and a slobbery snog from Willow** (who will happily ride around in the car all day wagging her stumpy tail) widened my grin. It’s hard to stay grumpy with such a fantastic support team. My mental rehabilitation was completed by the news that England, having started the last ODI in South Africa in horrific fashion (2 wickets down for 1 run as I parked up before the run) had recovered to make over 200. There’s hope for me yet.

* Necrinomicon - H R Giger's illustrations to accompany The Book Of The Dead. Giger went on to work with Ridley Scott to design the fearsome creature in Alien

** Willow, before some wags are tempted to comment, is a dog

Sweder, Hamstrung Limper

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

That man Pietersen again - 116 off 110 balls. I can't wait to see him in action against the Aussies. Should be worth missing a run for...

And rotten luck about the leg, by the way. Could be nature's way of telling you not to show the rest of us up so bad...

[Bierzo Baggie]

Sounds like you need a couple of week's rest!
I also turned back this weekend.

[Sweder]

Well OK, it's for tomorrow morning.
I've booked in with a Sports Injury Physio and (gulp) will accept her verdict on the hamstring, even if it means missing the Brighton Half this Sunday.

_______________________
Sweder, Hamstrung Limper

[Seafront Plodder]

That said, 2 weeks rest now, and you'll still be raring to go for London.

I hop (sic) you recover soon.

[Sweder]

It's a funny feeling, your first trip to a proper physio.
My reaction was that of a nervous teenager (been a while since I felt like that I can tell you!). Tarting about in the bathroom for ages until finally Mrs Sweder threatened to beat down the door. Running history carefully prepared, running shoes (all of 'em) packed into a holdall, T-shirt carefully selected (Silverstone Half 2003, one of my favorites) . . .

I lucked out. Nicola, my new physio (I have to keep saying it - makes me feel like an athlete, or as Nigel would tell you, El Atleta - he has the badge to prove it) is a runner. And not just a weekend plodder like me; she's got 6 marathons and a number of ultra-marathons (50K!) under her belt. This news set me at ease right away and we got down to business.

Right off the bat she spotted some fundamental factors that contribute to my lack of running aptitude.
'Oh my, what flat feet!' she giggled. And they are, flat that is. We are talking Pancake City.
'Do they give you much trouble?'
'Nope', sheepish grin. 'I've never had so much as a blister'.
We reviewed my footwear.
'Ah, good shoes' she announced. I told her about my devotion to the Jog Shop.
'That's where I go' she affirmed. 'Best place around here.'
I like this lady, funny feet giggling notwithstanding.

We moved onto my glorious running history. 30 seconds later I recounted the tale of the injury and it was 'kit off, get on the bed'. Some exploratory stretching revealed what I already knew.
'Hmm, you are pretty tight'. My left leg is thrust upwards. It feels like it's behind my ear, but sadly it is barely vertical. Same with the right. No reaction in the danger zone, so we continue. 'On your front then'.
Hmm, nice bit of leg massage and bloody hell! There's a red hot poker prodding my hamstring!. The physio's thumb was embeded somewhere deep in my right leg, wiggling around seeking the offending muscle.

It turns out I have a class one (mild) strain of the bicep muscle. This was probably caused by 'breaking' on the downward section of my run, exascerbated by the lack of flex in my calves putting additional strain on the hamstring. All very interesting - what's the score now then?

Basically, no running the rest of this week. A week out will not affect my training unduly (whereas further damage will). I can run the Brighton Half on Sunday provided that
a) I treat it as a training run and do not seek a PB and
b) I am prepared to stop at the first sign of trouble
Brighton is a relatively flat course (apart from the last 6 miles, and even then it's not exactly SAS training) which will help. It would certainly be less harmful than my usual 2 1/2 hours over the downs.

I'm scheduled for another physio session on Thursday. Meanwhile, I have been given a series of torture acts to perform in an effort to bring some flexibility back to my legs. The one I particularly favour involves laying in an open doorway flat on my back, stretching my leg up the door frame twisting the leg first inwards then outwards under maximum tension. This works the separate muscle groups that makes up the hamstring, and hurts like a sonofabitch.

We talked about the perceived wisdom of pre-run stretches, a hot topic in the wider running community and the subject of earlier threads on this forum. The popular view now is pre-run stretches (on cold muscles) are a waste and can even be harmful. It is generally believed that a post-run warm-down followed by a disciplined series of stretches is best practice.

My problem with this is the last thing I feel like after a run is . . . another run, warm down or no. But seeing as I'm the guy on the treatment table, perhaps it's time to start.

More news on Thursday.
Will I run Brighton? Oooh, that's a tough one. I'll defer 'till Thursday night and consult again with the Physio. It boils down to 'can I control myself' in race conditions. OK, I pulled out of Sunday's run, and that was no small thing for me to do. But in the heat of the moment, with over two thousand people giving it the gun, can I really trust myself to bail at the first sign of trouble?

[Seafront Plodder]

If I'm honest, it's better than I thought you get.

You could always plod round with me on Sunday. That'd be a gentler pace than you're used to, and I'd be able to give you a kick if you attempt to get away!

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

Yeah, that's not so bad really.

And thank God a professional physio has affirmed what I had long suspected - that pre-run stretching is at best a waste of time, and even potentially dangerous. Post-run stretching is far more sensible IMHO. Good on yer Nicola!

I don't quite understand your doorway torture stretch - can you post a photo?
(You could even pass it off as pseudo-running-porn to keep Mrs Sweder happy)...

[Seafront Plodder]

Perhaps you could post a pic of Mrs Sweder demonstrating the technique, and we'll decide whether that qualifies as porn, you know, just to get you off the hook!