Injury

Physio, heal myself.

Leave a comment

I’m injured. Not badly, but enough to keep me from running not just yesterday, but today as well. On Wednesday I continued my recovery plan from last weekend’s half marathon with a few 2 minute bursts, and some nice restful pace in-between. Thursday morning, shin and knee pain on the left leg.

Went to the physio. Great guy! He’s always entertaining and painfully, but comedically, direct. First time I saw him, a year ago, he told me I ‘run like a chicken’. Later, he corrected himself, and instead told me I ‘run like Phoebe from Friends’. Do I pay for this abuse, or is it extra? Doesn’t really matter, as long as his analysis and advice works.

So this time, he had me hopping around the room on each leg successively, before noting that my left knee rolls on on the hop. Diagnosis: weak calves. Homework: calf strengthening exercises. See me again in a week. The hypothesis is that a weak calf will cause the foot to roll in during plyometric exercise (elastic/explosive strength, as with the Achilles tendons during running). Foot rolling in means that other muscles are working harder than normal – notably the two muscles that control the foot roll and the big toe. Both those muscles go all the way up to the knee, and sit very close to the shin bone. It’s those muscles that, when overworked, can give rise to shin splints. So my weak calves are likely causing both my knee and shin pain.

The wonderful thing about this physio is that each time I’ve seen him about some niggly ache or pain, he has had me do some rehab exercises that have demonstrated an almost immediate beneficial effect. This time, hopping around caused pain in my knee. Five minutes of calf raises of varying types, and then hopping again – and no pain. Like a soothsayer, or maybe a horse whisperer – actually more like an engineer, explaining the machine of the body and how the bits link together, and discussing his hypotheses for what could be happening to cause a pain. Wonderful skill.

I’m still going to run this weekend though.

Uncategorized

Thinking about it.

Leave a comment

That’s the best and worst thing about running: thinking. Time to consider, for your mind to wander from idea to idea, flitting between thoughts, plans for the day ahead, happy and sad memories. Anything except the signals of excruciating agony coming from your body.

I’m relatively new to running. I started last year, 2011, because of stars falling into alignment. I was 42 years of age at that time, and although I used to play basketball a bit years ago, I swam for my school a little in early teens and and I like playing 5-a-side, I’ve never been what you’d describe as athletic. I’d tried running dozens of times in my life and generally hated it. Loved the idea, loved it, right up until the point of actually doing it, and then stopping and not starting again.

The first star to align was vanity. I saw a photograph of myself walking with my family, pushing my daughter along in her pushchair, and I didn’t like what I saw – balding and a little paunchy. I didn’t want in the years to come to be fat, bald and old. I knew I couldn’t do anything about hair loss, or ageing, but maybe I could do something about the wodge that had comfortably settled around my midriff. The second star was jealousy. A friend of mine, an old colleague who I don’t see often enough, had just successfully run the Brighton Marathon. This interested me from the point of view of… well, couldn’t I do that? I like a challenge. I had no idea how to go about it. The third star was technology. Another running friend advised me that to run a marathon I’d have to learn to pace myself, to not run above 10-minute miles at first. I love gadgets, and I suddenly had an excuse to get a GPS running watch. That was a revelation.

In May 2011 I set myself up with a little 5km route around Weybridge, Surrey, and ran out at as near to 10min/miles as I could. And blow me, if I didn’t finish it. It was the furthest I’d ever run for fun (previous charity races aside, as they weren’t, honestly, fun). I went again a few days later, and again, and I found a thrill in trying to beat my previous time. Then one day, some weeks later, I finished the loop, and on a spur of the moment decided I’d go around again. Without stopping, I did a 10k run. For fun. I didn’t realise at the time, but this was something that would quickly go on to become a passion for running now, just over a year later. Not only a passion to run, but a drive to go a little faster, and a *lot* further.