Excuse me while I adjust these twenty-twenty hindsight goggles. They are causing me some discomfort.
An old boss of mine used to say, in response to a mention of the H word: “Hope is not a strategy”. I should have listened to him. The 2012 Hyde Park 10K was strongly reminiscent of the 2010 iteration, and it needn’t have been. The two years separating the races could have been better spent ensuring that I had more than hope to rely on for an improved experience.
I started today’s race with a dull ache in my right calf, and it steadily got worse, becoming bad enough to force me to limp and run-walk the final 70% of the race. These are the annoying facts, and yet I remain reasonably confident that things can be turned round.
Unlike two years ago, when the calf erupted without warning during the race, this time the damage was done, and made itself known, a day and a half ago, while I was consuming five miles of damp, nocturnal Crawley pavement. The final mile revealed the first familiar traces of cramp-like pain, and continued to transmit its presence through yesterday. The discomfort was mild, but that it was there at all was the worry. The warning flag was still fluttering when I woke this morning, and I feared I’d be lucky to make much race headway before it worsened.
Despite a couple of bad experiences in recent years, the annual Hyde Park 10K is a favourite race. It’s always on New Year’s Day, so it’s always a public holiday, offering enrants the rare pleasure of driving through Central London without let or hindrance, and straight into the royal park, London’s Maidan, the lungs of the city.
Hyde Park is a space I love. There aren’t too many things I miss about the UK that I can’t get in Switzerland, but this is one of them — or at least it contains, or represents, a range of them. I have flickering recollections of Hyde Park stretching back a long way. Most of these memories involve being in love with someone or other, and are pleasant and sunlit. By contrast, when I think of previous editions of this race, I see clumps of rueful runners cursing in clouds of freezing mist, trying to clap and stamp away the cold. Today, we were lucky. It was mild and clear.
Even without the usual excuse of needing to insulate myself by lingering in the car, I dithered too long and had to jog to the start, pursued by a keen sense of panic. But as always (or nearly always — the Fleet Half Marathon of 2002 comes to mind), I made it just in time to hear that mournful horn launch us on that mournful voyage to ignominy.
The race is two laps of a circuit that starts near the east end of the Serpentine and takes in the northern fringe of the park, alongside Bayswater Road, before heading south again, past the top end of the lake. The finish (and informal bag deposit area) used to be the bandstand, but I didn’t even see it today. Has it been swallowed up by that mini-funfair that’s appeared in recent years? The course might have changed slightly since I was here last, or perhaps I just missed it.
With both calfs strapped in, I casually fell in with the usual crowd of losers at the rear — the plump, the semi-lame, the slightly mad, the wrinklies, and the newly enthusiastic. As a member of all of these disreputable clubs, my place down among the dead men seemed particularly richly deserved, even if I say so myself. We panted onwards through the first kilometre, watching in a collective, uncommunicated despair as the gazelles in the vanguard vanished into the far distance.
By the second kilometre the pain in my right calf was increasing, and had begun to transmit a threatening throb towards my ankle. Between 2.5 and 3, I knew the game was up — and sure enough, there wasn’t long to wait. Just past the 3 km marker, the familiar small explosion of pain appeared, the only difference being that it had always previously been the left calf, and today it was the right. Nice to have a little variety at least.
I pulled up, leaning on a bench to stretch the limb. I don’t know how helpful this is but it seemed like a better idea than weeping, which was the only option I could think of. I then walked for 2 minutes before beginning my 6.5 kilometres of limpy jogging. At each kilometre marker I stretched it again and walked for a minute or so. Approaching the final marker, and thoroughly fed up, I decided I had to try something radical, so I pulled off my shoes and plodded the last kilometre in my socks. This produced a few gasps from the spectators, and one or two from me as I traversed the more corrugated sections of the path. I’d like to be able to say that all calf pain vanished as I went shoeless, and I was suddenly able to hare through the field, pipping the complacent leader by a nose as he raised his arms in premature triumph. Er, but I can’t. The astonishing news is that this didn’t happen. But at least the pain was no worse.
It must have been a slow year, as I was genuinely surprised not to finish last. There is little glory to be found here though, and my heartless Garmin recorded the grim fact – it had taken me one and a quarter hours to manage a simple 10K.
My initial reaction was gloom and a sense of failure, but I didn’t allow it to last long. When I had these injury problems previously, I sought expert help from a variety of sources — sports therapist, two podiatrists, and one of the personal trainers at the gym. I’ve also had discussions with my knowledgeable RC friends. None of these people wrote me off, or told me to give up. Everyone has given good advice – much of it detailed, specific and credible. The only problem with all this advice is that I haven’t taken any of it, and we all know that observation, that “If you always do what you always did, you always get what you always got.” I’d naively ignored it.
So the over-riding feeling was one of self-approach rather than self-pity, and this soon gave way to a decision to remain positive and be determined to deal with the problem. At least I’ve already sought the solution, and been advised what to do, so there is none of the usual forlorn “WTF happened there?”
The proffered solutions didn’t come with guarantees, but they are credible, and at least there’s enough information to create a plan – and a plan that fits in well with decisions already made about getting fitter and shedding some useless middle-aged ballast.
In summary, the expert analysis I’d received during 2010 pointed to some fundamental issues with form and gait, a consequence of a having a weak core, floppy glutes, and reduced flexibility. These central fragilities were forcing my skeleton into making unnatural lower leg twisting movements when running — and particularly when tired. The outcome was excessive stress on the knees and calf muscles – and inevitable injury. Carrying surplus weight was only making it worse.
So regular exercises and stretches targeted at strengthening the core and glutes is what I must do, and what I will do. Losing weight is what I must do and what I will do. There is no option now, apart from finally, formally, abandoning the plodding life.
If I don’t make these changes, the injuries will continue to reappear. Foolishly, I’d taken the lazy option, hoping that an extended rest would sort it all out. And after several weeks of pain-free jogging, I had started to believe that my instincts were cleverer than the experts and their many collective decades of experience. And if I could only be happy with short fitness plods two or three times a week, I could have got away with this arrogance. But once the distances creep past 4 miles or so, their expertise is revealed.
The tragic conclusion is that sitting in an armchair for a year, consuming the greatest wines and cheeses known to humanity, was not the answer I had cheerfully imagined it to be.
Bollocks. But fun while it lasted.
12 comments On I have been here before – Hyde Park 10K
@Mid Life Crisis Man
January 12, 2012 at 10:48 am
“This could become a habit…”
Bzzzzt!
We’ll have nun of that talk. Now please excuse me, I have a Prior engagement.
This could become a habit…
A similar thing happened to me once, actually. But I was too late for dinner. They’d already taken the orders.
Remember EG’s story about roaming the moors as a teenager and staying overnight at a monastery? Well he kindly told me a little bit more about that episode in an email:
Lost on a rainy night, the young EG stumbles across a monastery and requests shelter there. Fortunately, he’s just in time for dinner and was treated to the best fish and chips he’d ever had.
After dinner, he went into the kitchen to thank the chefs and is met by two brothers, “Hello, I’m Brother Michael, and this is Brother Charles.”
“I’m very pleased to meet you. I just wanted to thank you – they were the best fish and chips I’ve ever had. Out of curiosity, who cooked what?”
Brother Charles replied, “Well, I’m the fish friar.”
He turns the other brother and says, “Then you must be…?”
“Yes, I’m the chip monk.”
Oh, brother…
Thanks for the interesting and thoughtful/though-provoking comments guys.
@glaconman – I can’t argue too strongly against what you say. Running on an injury can never help. I’ve twice (2003/4 I think) properly pulled my calf muscle. I felt it go, and that was that — I could barely walk when it happened, never mind even consider jog-walking 7km. And that’s the weird thing with this current problem. It’s happened often enough now for me to have learnt a bit about it, and how it behaves. It’s painful enough to make me wince and not want to put much pressure on it, but I can still move as long as I take breaks and stretch it, and it doesn’t feel as if it’s going to get significantly worse. That said, 7K is further than I’d have liked. Probably still not very wise, and my journey home across Europe later that evening with a post-Christmas suitcase was very uncomfortable. But I’d gone to the trouble of driving into London, and giving up my New Year’s Eve, so I had to get round.
@marathondan – I’ve read the barefoot stuff and find it compelling, but it’s not for me just yet. Need to drop a few more pounds and get some warmer weather — though even then there are surprisingly few local opportunities for grass running. There’s some very pleasant woodland at the end of the road with but I need daylight to venture in there, so it could be an idea for the weekend.
As for becoming monk-like, well I have picked up plenty of new habits and hidden the deep fat friar.
“If you have managed to do 10 km in 75 minutes in spite of being injured, you can do whatever you want.” – it’s a reasonable comment. OK, it’s not up there with your glory days, but the ability to just to propel your corpus for 10,000m is a decent start.
Wise words from Antonio and GM about aiming too high too soon in races. I guess you could knock out the Almeria half in a leisurely time with a modest run / walk strategy, though.
Good luck with the exercise and weight loss programme. It sounds like you are now settled in your new location and job, and hopefully you now have the energy to devote to this. A period of monk-like devotion to the cause could do wonders – could you keep it up for a year, do you think? Zurich marathon 2013 sounds like a more realistic target to me – who knows, you could be in better shape than ever by then.
I know your problems are not specifically joint-related, but I may as well toss in my current injury-prevention tips:
1. Get off-road. Sweder’s been swearing by it for years; I’m feeling much less impact now most of my miles are on grass. The ankles get a good workout, too.
2. Run a couple of hundred metres barefoot every now and again (on grass) (I believe it’s just the right weather for it in Switzerland at the moment). You’ll discover ligaments in your ankles that you never knew you had. This will of course place pressure on your calves, but somehow it feels like a _good_ kind of pressure, and you should only do it for a few minutes at a time.
Looking forward to more and shorter posts, too!
A couple of things Andy;
Firstly, I think entering races and hobbling through an injury are only going to delay you and potentially jeopardise your chances of resuming the running life.
Secondly, I’ve had my own calf problems recently. And the main cause seems to be foot and ankle flexibility. So whilst core strength and weight loss are both generally important, getting flexibility into the ankle joint may be the quickest, and most important, way of preventing injury in the calf muscle.
I think that your mind must be very strong to go on for the second lap when you could have left, Andy. Besides, doing 10 km in 75 minutes with that pain, those stops for stretching is really good. I remember that when I´ve had some discomfort in my calf while running, if I did it on a treadmill I didn´t feel any discomfort or much less.
If I were you, I´d do the 9 km race in Almería since doing a half marathon could be a great risk of getting more injured. There isn´t too much time to prepare it well. Anyway,If you finish the 9 km race feeling fine or not too bad, you could go back and do a few kilometres with one of the RC mates who will be doing the half marathon. However, I´d take part in a half marathon by the end of March to see if I feel confident enough to do Zurich marathon.
Best of luck, Andy!
“If you have managed to do 10 km in 75 minutes in spite of being injured, you can do whatever you want.”
Ha ha! Crikey, that’s even more positive than I’m trying to be. I’m not entirely sure about your logic there, Antonio, as it’s a very poor time, but thanks for the encouragement at least. Just back from my second tough gym session since the race, plus been doing a lot of exercises and stretching. I think I know what I have to do, but time isn’t on my side for Almeria. It will be a tall order but I will do what I can and make a call nearer the time.
Congratulations on the report and the race! If you have managed to do 10 km in 75 minutes in spite of being injured, you can do whatever you want. I also intend to lose some kilos. At Christmas it is easy to get fatter with so much nougat, “mantecados”, etc. Get better from your injury and have a great new year!
Saludos desde Almería