Apologies in
advance for the lack of pictures to break up all this text. I just need to bang it out this time.
Following on
from my last post I have to say that I stand accused, by myself of still not having learned my
lesson!
Counsel for my Defence
To a large
extent I have followed the physiotherapist’s advice closely. During the first 4 days, I iced the offending
leg, did the exercises and stretches frequently and took ibuprofen as suggested. After my second visit to the physio, I commenced
the additional exercises and continued with the original ones. I benefited from the application of kinsio
taping and even remembered to do the pre-run stretch that is necessary when
running while taped.
I think I’ve
been 90% ‘good’.
So why am I
sitting here looking at the Manchester Marathon website finding out how to
transfer my number to another runner?
Counsel for my
Prosecution
Clearly, it’s
the other 10% that has buggered the job up.
I’m too impatient. I’ve done too
much, too soon. Again. And for goodness sake! I’m fifty-one years old. I should know
better!
I started
well. In the first week running as suggested for 10-15 mins at a time on flat
grass. But even then, I was probably
pushing my luck a bit. I mean, guess
which end of 10-15 minutes I ran for?
Yep, 15. Those first few runs had
bits of soreness, but were ok on balance.
So the next
week I increased to 15-20 minutes as suggested.
Yeah, well, 20 minutes. Obviously.
Looking back at my notes – I had some twinges while running and pain the
day after, but the day after that was fine.
In the third
week I ran with Chris on Saturday afternoon and did 40 minutes, mostly on
grass, partly on the road. I was a bit
sore with a few twinges of pain that I managed to run through. After that, it was painful to walk the
next day and I was a bit limpy, but that could be out of habit. I ran with Sue, on the Monday (our 11th Commandment
run), planning to do 35 minutes, but stopping after 31 minutes. That was at the height of my sensibleness! I could
tell that I wasn't going to be able to run the pain off – it was too sharp and
too similar to the pain I experienced at the beginning of all this when I had
to abandon my long run.
Pain whilst
walking followed on Tuesday and Wednesday and was a bit eased by Thursday so I
decided to run one of our club routes. I
did a couple of laps of the field first (complying with the ‘don’t just run on
the roads’ rule), then trotted steadily down to Nettleton (about a mile and a
half) and Moortown road. On the way
back, Jayne told me I was limping. I was hurting, but was so elated that I
could run and the pain wasn't enough to stop me, that I carried on. Then I ran
another half lap of the field. That run
was 51 minutes. It hurt. I did my stretches. It still hurt, but I was so pleased with
running for that long that I seemed to override it. I felt happy.
I even said, “if the level of pain stayed at that level and didn't get
any worse, I could probably run 26 miles on it.” That’s ridiculous! This was a 4½ mile run. Clearly, if I ran 26 miles, the pain would be
unlikely to stay at that level!
Friday, I
was in worse pain. It was difficult to walk. I’d been making a conscious effort
not to limp (as advised by the physio) but now, I couldn't help it. I did lots of icing and stretching (not in that order) and was keen to do parkrun on Saturday. I wore multiple tutus for invincibility, some
stripy leg-warmers (thanks Sarah) and a purple wig for comedy effect! I knew I wouldn't be going at any kind of
pace, so I thought I’d go more for fun.
The first lap hurt and I considered just stopping. But I thought, "come on, get on with it. If
you can’t run 5k, how are you going to run a marathon in 8 weeks time?!” The second lap was on and off and the third
was better, but I did walk a bit when it started to do that sharp pain.
I had even
more pain just sitting in the car on the short ride to Wetherspoons. Chris nipped to get me some ibuprofen and
paracetamol which I swilled down with a pint of lager!
Weighing up the
Evidence
I was quite
despondent at breakfast because there was now some pain in a part of my shin
that wasn't affected before, as well as the regular pain I have been having! Both Chris and Andrew mooted the idea to me
that I might take the pressure off myself by deciding not to run Manchester
Marathon. Andrew said it was a bit like
when he accidentally got on a run streak and even though he knew he was feeling
rubbish on it, he found it very difficult to stop. But ultimately, he said when he considered
his long term goal of a sub 3 hour marathon, to be reached steadily over
training this year he recognised that he had to drop one in order to do justice
to the other. It made sense, but I
resisted of course. However, I was already considering a run-walk strategy or
run as much as I can and see how it goes.
Throughout
Saturday, in quite a lot of pain, I mulled it over and talked with Chris some
more about it. On Sunday, we went for a bike
ride, to keep Andrew company on his long training run.
Cycling is not painful at all. As
soon as I was walking again, it started.
So I mulled it over some more.
Our Paul phoned and he was asking how the training was going and I told
him I was thinking of bailing on Manchester.
He said, “There’ll be other marathons mum, but you won’t get another
leg.” Then I had an on-line chat with
Sue on Sunday night, and mulled it over some more.
Emerging Clarity
Through
talking it through and thinking about it, I came to realise that I was pursuing
two goals that were conflicting:
1.
To follow the rehab plan and get my leg better; this required building up my time running gradually
and only increasing by a few minutes at a time and only IF it felt OK. OK
meaning ‘not painful’, rather than ‘painful but I’ll just call it sore or
uncomfortable’.
2.
To get back on my training plan for Manchester
and get out on some longer runs. I was desperate
to get to do a 16 miler – for me, it’s that nice distance just before the
training starts to get a bit tough. I
needed to get to this and beyond and that would mean increasing mileage rapidly
– by greater increments than if I hadn't been out with an injury.
As I write this now, it’s all very clear. But it took quite a bit of pain to make me
come to this point. Over the last few
weeks, I’ve laid in bed before I’ve nodded off and mentally asked my leg what it
needs. Just sort of meditated on the
whole thing. If it could have answered, I reckon it would have said, “I need a
bloody rest, you silly woman!” And it
has been saying that to me really, hasn't it? By giving me jip every time I run!
The Verdict
I made the decision late last night to withdraw from
Manchester. Today, I already feel
relieved. Looking at my two conflicting
goals, it’s very clear which I need to give priority to! Number 2 isn't possible without number 1 and I don’t think number 1 can be
rushed.
I'm giving myself a complete week off running this week. Because I can. Because it’s not ‘wasting another precious
week’s training.’ Because I feel that is
what is needed. I may even have next
week off running too – I'm not sure. But
when I do start running, I am going to take my time. Not obsess about building
up distance / time. Focus on doing all
the healing stuff and only add a few minutes on if it genuinely feels ok. I'm seeing the physio again on Thursday and will check out with her that cycling is
OK. I can cycle with runners and use
Chris’s turbo to maintain some fitness. I'm still going with my alcohol abstention until 19th April –
I like to give the old liver a rest now and again. I’ll also get to grips with healthier eating
and lose the few pounds that have crept on.
I’ll have a phase of looking after myself and even though I'm a night
owl, I aim to get some earlier nights. In
other words – focus on goal number one.
I think the decision has been knocking on my mental door for
a while and I've put off making it because I thought I’d be upset, disappointed
with myself, feel like a quitter / failure.
I actually don’t feel any of those.
I feel relieved now and a bit incredulous as to how I've kept up the
hope of running Manchester for so long. I'm sitting with my feet up right now and there’s a dull ache, which will worsen
when I stand up. Of course I needed to
rest it. I am finding it hard to find a
sentence to finish this post. I know why. Procrastination. It’s because I know that after I click ‘post’,
I am popping onto facebook and ‘coming out’ about bailing on Manchester. And that will make it very final. And even as I typed that, my overriding
feeling was, “and that’s OK.” So, that’s
ok.
I have this postcard stuck up on the inside of one of my kitchen cupboards. I need to heed it rather than just read it!
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