Maranoia

With just over 3 weeks to go until my first marathon the paranoia is beginning to set in. Big style.

It's really my foot’s fault. It was fine up until my 14 mile run. In fact, it was fine during my 14 mile run, and the day after. It wasn’t until 2 days later, that I noticed an ache underneath the left foot and, after some internet research, diagnosed myself with plantar fasciitis. I prescribed myself with a bit of rest for a few days with the plan to do my 15 mile run the following weekend. Unfortunately it was worse during this run and I took my sorry self to the physio for a proper diagnosis.

''The foot is just a bit overloaded, but I don't think it will be a problem," Dave the physio declared cheerfully. ''I'm pretty confident we'll get you round that course."

It wasn’t plantar fasciitis, or a stress fracture, or anything else that wasn’t manageable. I was elated. All I needed to do was to rest for a few days, cross-train, then gradually re-introduce road running up to the point of pain and use the treadmill to make up any additional mileage. I had a new plan.

Since the physio visit the initial foot ache seems to have disappeared but I’ve developed a whole new range of niggles in various parts of the feet, ankles, knees, calves and toes. Each time an ache appears I feel a sinking dread and the endless questioning begins: Is it going to turn into something worse? Will I need to make another physio appointment? Will I collapse during the marathon and never be able to walk again? Then 10 minutes later the ache disappears and I’m left feeling a bit silly.

But it’s not just the aches and pains. There's the growing fear of getting sick. My son woke up with a stuffy nose a few days ago and I promptly opened most of the windows and tried to avoid smothering him with my usual barrage of kisses. Then I woke up in the middle of the night with a slightly sore throat and was convinced it was the onset of swollen glands. After taking a swig of water I realised I was just a bit thirsty.

I’ll be glad when the marathon is over – not because the thought of running 26.2 miles is terrifying, but because all this constant paranoia is exhausting. 

Just 3 more weeks to get through with a bottle of hand sanitiser by my side.

The Beast from the East

We've had quite a significant dump of snow this winter. Nothing by Canadian standards I'm sure, but more than my little Volkswagen Polo can handle and certainly more than my trail shoes were designed for. This has led to much chin scratching over how to get my marathon training runs done.

The first major flurries of snow came last Wednesday morning and pretty much continued all day. It was quite mesmerising to watch it from the window, floating in from the east at a 45 degree angle. Then it started to pile up and gradually our little wall separating us from our neighbour disappeared, leaving an undisturbed expanse of brilliant white fluff that seemed a shame to disturb. Unfortunately this did not bode well for running on the pavements. I pulled on my running gear nevertheless, complete with a menacing snood and set of sunglasses to keep the wind chill away, and slid down the front staircase in search of somewhere suitable to run 3 miles. I found myself trotting along the main road, which aside from a snow plough and a few abandoned cars was deserted.

By Saturday the roads were clear, which meant cars were back on them, so 10 miles would have to be accomplished elsewhere. I ended up doing 22 laps of our local woods (a popular dog walking area) where I was cheered on by my husband leaning out of our upstairs window and chased occasionally by an enthusiastic Vizsla.

By Monday the snow was starting to melt, but not quite enough for speedwork so it was off to the treadmill for an hour of sweating. I had hoped by the following Wednesday the snow would have cleared, which it had not, but I thought I would give a trail run a go as I had run in the snow before and, albeit a bit slow, it hadn't been that bad.

This time it was hell. Hell on earth. Complete and utter awfulness with several expletives thrown in. Slushy-slipping-sloshing-wading-in-icy water-frozen-toes-knee-deep-in-untouched-snow-hell.

But enough said about that. Tomorrow will be the furthest I have run so far - 14 miles - and I hope to goodness that sun has been doing its best to melt those little pesky ice crystals.

My husband reminded me that it's those hard miles that earns you the finish line. He's absolutely right and I'll look back and think damn I earned that marathon. In the meantime I'll not be sad to see the back of the Beast from the East.

Being my own personal best

I recently completed my third half marathon and as seems to now be the tradition, I didn't achieve the time I expected.

Instead, I SMASHED it!

The odds weren't exactly stacked in my favour as the weather was foul (Sunday 1st October was welcomed by some of Scotland's finest drizzle, frequent downpours and occasional gusts of wind) and my training hadn't begun with a PB in mind. A week before the race, when I realised my previous hamstring niggle was not bothering me, a thought entered my mind...maybe I could get a PB...

On race day the legs were feeling fresh and I thought, as I bounced up and down trying to stay warm at the start line, let's aim for 1 hour 53 and see how it goes. I started off slow, as is always my race strategy, and took advantage of the first downhill to let my legs turn over faster and begin to build up pace. Once over the Kingston Bridge I had settled into a steady rhythm and my average pace suggested I would be able to beat my previous Great Scottish Run half marathon time of just over 1 hour and 54 minutes. Halfway through the race I was on track for a much faster time than I expected and I wondered...could I get 1 hour 50....or even less? I chomped through my last energy gel and continued on through Pollok Park.

With 4 miles to go I was maintaining a good pace: faster than I usually run but still feeling comfortable. The temptation to get 1 hour 50 was incredibly strong and I wondered if I could actually maintain this pace. At 1 mile to go I saw a girl on a stretcher being driven to the medical area in Glasgow Green, so close to the finish line. My lungs felt like they had reached their maximum capacity and for a horrible moment I wondered if it would be me next on the stretcher.

The Broomielaw felt like the longest road on earth. I don't remember it seeming as long the previous year. That might have been because the weather was so much better and the crowds were out in force. Still, the Macmillan team banging on their drums on top of a double decker bus and the wonderful supporters that had braved the weather conditions to come out to cheer people anyway was enough to dig deep and find some remaining drops of energy.

I entered the finishing tunnel and attempted a final sprint, but the legs just didn't have it this time. I settled for one leg in front of the other, kept breathing and didn't take my eyes off the big clock above the finishing line.

1 hour 50 minutes and 26 seconds.

It's a wonderful thing to feel a sense of accomplishment. As the years go by and our lives are occupied with jobs and families it can be easy to forget our own need for achievement. This is what running gives me. It's not about being better than anyone else, but always about being better than myself.

So it's on to the next challenge: Edinburgh Marathon. My husband has advised me to just focus on finishing it, which is truly sensible and greatly appreciated advice.

But there's that little voice again...I wonder if I could I get under 4 hours?

Unfamiliar Territory

This time last year I was in the final training week of my first half marathon and I remember feeling very excited and nervous at the same time. A year on, I’m in the final week of training for my third half marathon and, as much as I’m excited about taking part in a big running event, I no longer feel the same nervous anticipation that I had a year ago.

I think back to my training last year and the overuse problem I had with my hamstring. I remember doubting if it would improve and spent months frustratingly building up my mileage using a run/walk technique to give my leg a chance to heal and adapt. I continued with the run/walk technique during the half marathon at the Edinburgh Marathon Festival in May, as I still didn’t trust my leg, and had almost convinced myself that at 40, I was probably asking too much of my body to endure the mileage I was putting it through. 4 months later I’m stronger, wiser and can pinpoint exactly when the tightness starts in the hamstring and have a technique of stretching it out without the need to walk. I’m now confident that I’ll be able to complete the Great Scottish Run half marathon this Sunday without any pain and I’m even hoping for a personal best.

I never would have imagined that I would say training for a half marathon has become relatively easy. This may come across as incredibly arrogant, which I certainly don’t mean it to be. I respect the distance and I know if I was to try to run as fast as an elite runner it would be anything but easy. I think what has happened is the distance is no longer daunting. It has become very familiar and with this comes a comfort and ease as I know it's something that I can manage, with correct training and nutrition.

But after Sunday, it will be on to the next goal: the full marathon. I’m daunted by this as I've never done this before. When the miles start creeping past the half marathon mark I will be entering unfamiliar territory and at present I don’t know how my body will respond to the new demands put on it. I can only hope that the experience I've built up over the last year and a half will help. I’m glad I didn’t attempt to do the marathon this year and have given myself time to build up resilience to endurance running rather than pushing myself to do something I was not strong enough for, and potentially succumbing to injuries that would take a long time to heal.

One thing I've learnt over the last year is that people are capable of things they never thought possible. Running any kind of distance, whether it is a 5k, 10k, half marathon, marathon or ultra marathon is achievable by respecting where you currently are with your running and by building up gradually and sensibly. I hope to remember this when I set out for my first long run that takes me beyond 13.1 miles.

A new perspective

I have reached a point where I am scared to switch on the news, for fear of what latest terrorist incident has taken place. What frightens me is I don't see an end to it, for I see no reason in it in the first place.

People say we should not live in fear, and I would like to agree with this. But I would be lying if I said that I haven't started looking around a bit more when I'm in public places, thinking about what I would do if there was an attack. I would also be lying if I said I'm not concerned about going into big cities, going on public transport and attending big events.

A few days after the Manchester bombing I found myself sitting with my son by the side of a little bike track near where I live, blowing bubbles and watching them float up into the sky. I had been feeling particularly wretched after hearing about some of the victims of that night and wondering what sort of world I was bringing my son up in. There was something calming about watching those bubbles and listening to my little son's giggles, with nothing much around us aside from the trees swaying gently in the wind. At that moment I couldn't have felt further from all that is bad about the world.

It's funny, for recently I started trail running and much to my husband's frustration, have asked the same question over and over again: do you think it's safe for me to go out alone? Not from a getting lost point of view, or from a twisting my ankle point of view, but from the tiniest possibility of some nutter lurking in the bushes, waiting to jump out on me.

In light of the recent atrocities in England, and many other parts of the world, this seems utterly absurd and I've never felt safer than in the country. 

It seems wrong that something so tragic can offer a new perspective on other aspects of our life. Perhaps that is just part of the human condition, to strive to find something positive in the darkest of times.

It's ok to stop and walk

So I completed my 2nd half marathon at the weekend. Not quite as fast as the 1st but this time there was one big difference...it was pain free.

Anyone who read my previous blog 'Overdoing it' would know that my 1st half marathon went well until around the 8 mile mark then it was a case of hauling my leg around the last 5 miles. This time I had a game plan, one which I devised during the latter part of my training, when I realised I still have a slight issue with my hamstring tightening. 

So what I decided to do this time was to stop running before any pain set in (after about 30 minutes), walk for 2 minutes then carry on running. This has made such a difference and I was able to run the Edinburgh Half Marathon with this strategy and no pain.

I used to always think you have to run the entire distance of your race to really feel like you had achieved it, but sometimes our bodies are not ready for this. I like to think by walking a little I'm giving my legs a chance to build up strength before an injury sets in.

After this weekend, I now feel the marathon is more of a possibility than ever and have signed up for next year's full marathon in Edinburgh. My plan will remain the same during my training for this - simply to walk when required.

I can't wait to start training.

Destination Running

Not being one to stay at home when approaching a milestone, I recently travelled to Hawaii to celebrate my 40th surrounded by volcanoes, sandy beaches and a surprising number of turtles. This was certainly conducive to softening the blow of turning a significant age.

Most folks probably view going on holiday as an opportunity to relax, drink cocktails and work on a lovely mahogany tan. I imagine these folks will also spend a considerable amount of time choosing just the right outfits for these holiday pursuits, and quite rightly so. I, on the other hand, spent a lot of time ensuring that I had packed just the right outfits and accessories for running in 30 degree heat, with a few other 'civilian' items of clothing thrown in for good measure.

Although I'm more than keen to go for a run on various holiday destinations, I also like to ensure that what I'm doing is reasonably safe and spent some time looking on the internet for safe places to run on the 3 islands that we were visiting: Oahu, Big Island and Maui. I needn't have bothered doing this for Oahu, for on the first morning of the holiday I decided to run around the outskirts of the Diamond Head Crater and was among hundreds of other people also walking and running. With severe jet lag and only 2 hours of sleep I was able to run/walk for 55 minutes and was rewarded with my first breathtaking views of Honolulu.

Big Island was a bit more daunting as where we were staying was more isolated and surrounded by little other than dense bush. As I was in the midst of a half marathon training plan, I wanted to keep my fitness up and opted for a run along one of the roads near the south coast of the island one evening. After about 10 minutes I turned back. I didn't feel comfortable as a lone female runner on a country road, with cars passing by and nothing but trees on either side. Every little rustle in the bushes made me jump and every time a car passed by I was convinced they would stop and bundle me in the back. Perhaps I was being a little paranoid but I think in situations like that it's better to trust your instinct and turn back if it doesn't feel safe.

My favourite run on Big Island was quite unexpected and involved running inside a volcanic crater in the Volcanoes National Park. We had visited the national park previously and had seen people walking across the Kilauea Iki Crater from a viewpoint on the crater rim. I longed to be able to walk across those trails; something my husband and I wouldn't have hesitated to do before we had a child. But it would have been a bit much to expect a 4 year old to manage a walk like that in such heat, so we opted for a short, shady walk to the Thurston Lava Tubes instead. Later on that evening, whilst thinking about the long run I needed to do at the weekend, I contemplated the idea of running across the crater I had seen and adding on a run round the crater rim back to the Jaggar Museum. Well, I'm so glad I did as it was one of the best runs I think I've ever done.

I began at the Kilauea Iki Trailhead, with the gas plume of Kilauea in the background and followed the trail to the Thurston Lava Tubes.

At the Lava Tubes I followed the sign taking me down to the crater. This was an exciting experience as never before had I descended into a volcanic crater. Once inside the crater I could feel the heat rising from below and could see steam vents scattered across the crater. The 'path' was marked by piles of stones and undulated over old mounds of lava. I could barely call this a run as every few minutes I had to stop to take photos. When I got to the other side it was so steep that it became a hike back to the rim of the crater where I followed the path towards the Jaggar Museum, past more steam vents, through some forest and out onto the rim for a stunning evening view of Kilauea.

When I finished my run and met up with my husband and little boy at the Jaggar Museum I was told that the volcano was pretty active, that lava could be seen spurting inside the crater and that only 4% of people get a chance to see this. What an incredible ending to a fabulous run.

To me, running whilst on holiday makes me feel really part of the place I am visiting. I no longer look like a tourist as I could be someone that lives there out for their run. There is also something very appealing about being in a country where running and having an active lifestyle is not only common, but the norm. To be greeted with a 'good morning' and a smile from people out walking and running is refreshing. And to be able to ditch the layers and wear a pair of shorts is simply liberating.