This Is Ladies Night

Have you ever been stuck in doors, alone, with the same 4 walls, and the inability to move without pain?

My drama skills are on the up rise in case you haven’t noticed. I’m thinking of yet another career change.  The stage is clearly calling.

Friday was spent barely moving from the couch which obviously resulted in a solid full stone gain in weight (the only food I could stumble my to the kitchen to find was of no nutritional value and the pain in my back was making me feel nauseous). However the rest did work and my back eased up enough for me tackle the stairs and begin to peel the tin man costume off my body.

Saturday morning and despite a night of constant up and down with the dogs and the impossible act of getting comfy I was better than the Friday. The other half had left for a boys weekend Friday afternoon so my mum and dad came round to take the eldest to the airport for his holiday. I decided I was going to try and make my cocktail night because 1. It would cheer me up and 2. If I’m honest, walking round bars would be a lot easier than running after dogs and dealing with the constant cries of ‘mum I’m hungry’ from the youngest.

I almost changed my mind in the taxi on the way down, nearly asking him to turn round and take me back home. But I didn’t. I sucked it up.

There were 8 of us from the tri club, most of whom I have been doing quite a bit of training with.  Although not this kind of training ha ha.  Let me tell you though.  The organisational skills of these women – good lord! If ever I enter an event that requires a crew then these people are my team! Everything was arranged.  I only had to worry about getting dressed (admittedly a task in itself when I couldn’t lift my left leg) and hobble between bars.  But it seemed that even the distance between bars had been thought out as it always felt enough to get me moving but not too far it was over doing it.

However.  The comments on taking a trolley or a stretcher for me definitely warrant some questions on our friendship.  And an Asda trolley? At least make it a Marks and Spencer’s one ladies!

At the first stop we had, in true ladies style, the Pornstar Margarita.  A sugared glass with tequila and lime and I think a shot of Prosecco.  I’m unsure as the woman at the table next to us took one look at me and proceeded to divulge, in great detail, how she had had a bad back and ended up getting her spine shaved.  Thanks for that love.

The sugared glass became quite entertaining though.  You start by discreetly trying to lick tiny bits off then someone catches your eye and you watch them full on lick clean their glass ALL the way round the rim to the extent you’re now worried they may start to attack the windows!

Amazing what a drop of alcohol can do.

We head to the next one on the list but find it doesn’t open until 5pm so go next door.  I see some of the same women from the last place but thankfully not the nip and tuck women.  Naturally it’s selfie time and I make my first mistake of the night when I try to bend down to get in the picture and have to be helped back up by Shona.  This is one drink down ladies and gentleman.  One drink.

img_5175

It’s getting busier now and it’s not so easy to find a seat in the next bar but standing and discreetly stretching my back is fine with me.  At least I think it’s discreetly.  I’ve now had more alcohol in the last couple of hours than I’ve had in the last couple of years so for all I know I’m doing full on acrobatic yoga moves on the bar and not just slightly tilting my pelvis every now and then.  No one says anything though so I’m either getting away with it or they are just as drunk.

We head to the next one and it’s downstairs.  This is not good for me.  This is when I begin to wonder how far the train station is as it might be time to make an exit.  We haven’t even entered the place when a group comes out and tells us the bar is disgusting.  ‘Worst one yet’ they say.  So it’s back up the stairs.

In to Tigerlily and we sit outside after an array of photos at their flower wall.  I’ve just sat down when the rain starts but you’re buggered if you think I’m moving! I’m happy to have Monica Geller frizzy hair if it means I can have a seat for a minute to ease off my back.  The cocktail helps too ha ha.

72752397_10220387479181345_430965393666867200_n

Stomachs are grumbling by this point so it’s a food stop.  Now, I know nothing about food.  It’s not a subject I find interesting.  I’m genuinely astonished by how some people can rattle off descriptions of a meal laden with ‘dripping in’ this and ‘coated in’ that.  THATS DISGUSTING.  The mere thought of anything I’m going to eat being ‘dripped’ in something is pure and simple gross! If it drips, I’m not eating it! This obviously leaves me with a problem when we go to the Tapas bar.  Joe and I don’t eat out that often.  Sure we take the kids out for breakfast at the weekends but we stick to what they like and know.  (And usually if it’s breakfast, I can get beans on toast, job done).  I don’t know what tapas is.  When someone says you have 2 maybe 3 portions I’m thinking ‘I’m not a fatty love, I’m just hungry’.

I play it safe and order the peppers, olives and a potato thing I’m sharing with Carol.

Out comes the food.  It’s just peppers.  As in, just peppers.  I was expecting something to put the peppers in.  Like a tortilla wrap or something.  Nope.  Just peppers.  Ok, olives then.  They look whole.  As in solid.  As in not deseeded or pipped or what ever it’s bloody called – hollowed out! I can’t eat them.

I order some fries.

I know Joe doesn’t read what I write so I’m pretty safe putting this here but it’s quite clear when it comes to food I’m pretty stuck without him.  He usually orders for me.  But I was kind of grumpy with him as he’s not the most sympathetic over my back pain (called it inconvenient!) so I didn’t do what I usually do and text him asking him what I should order.

Kind of shot myself in the foot over that one.

On to the next bar!

The man bar that stinks of, well, men, actually gets my vote for best cocktail.  It may have been the lack of food affecting my taste buds but I liked it.

By this time my back is most definitely giving up.  I’m actually impressed with how long I’ve lasted given I was going to get the taxi to take me straight back home.

We end the night in Harvey Nichols with tattoos that just won’t go on.  Jo had provided bus snacks in the form of old school candy sticks that came with super hero tattoos.  I begged for the Wonder Woman one.

It was a great night and I’m glad I went.  I can’t do this whole ‘sit and do nothing’ even though I know I need to.  I’ve still got to keep my sanity.  And whilst the ladies from tri club may not be completely sane, they are a good laugh.

The night out did leave me with one huge problem though.  Removing skinny jeans when you can’t lift your leg or bend forwards has by far been my biggest challenge yet!

Backing It Up

Well life’s just sat up and given me a big old slap in the face with a soggy fish taken straight from the murky under grounds of death lake.

I’ve hurt my back.

Correction. A plastic mannequin filled with water has completely totalled my back and put me out of action for god only knows how long.

So what happened? Last night during one of my classes a young lad was doing amazing. He was swimming absolutely beautifully and nailed both his breast stroke and back crawl. As a reward we put the mannequin in as he just loves to dive down for it. All I did was pull it out the water on to the side. As I lifted it up I felt this explosion in my back and intense pain. I lent against the diving boards and found I was struggling to move. Luckily I had our modern apprentice with me and she went to get another teacher so I could try and sneak out the back door and on to the power plates in hope of releasing my back straight away.

This didn’t work so I limped my way to the chiropractor a mere 2 hours after it happened to be told I had rotated L3 L4 had an acute tear and a golf ball sized lump in my QL.

In English I had f@cked my back.

An absolute HUGE thank you to Duigan Chiropractors and their massage therapist Amanda for seeing me so quickly!!

Where does this leave me? Well this morning it left me stuck on the bed for 5 minutes because I had one leg in my trousers but couldn’t lift the other up to put that one in. I also couldn’t roll to the side enough to move so there I was balanced half off the bed in a contorted position with a pair of trousers dangling off my right foot. Yup, I certainly know how to spice things up in the bedroom!

img_5114

 

Basically, after a mere 3 days of following a training plan, I’m on rest. I can’t bend side to side, I can’t bend forward – the bathrooms a freaking fun place to visit right now – and I can’t sit in one position for more than a couple of minutes with out a shooting pain going down my leg.

img_5113

 

BUT. Tomorrow is another day. Let’s see if it releases any today. I am religiously icing it and rolling on that spiky ball. I am regularly getting up and moving but no, not going for a run. Once it registered last night that I will not be doing my turbo session, run or be fit for work today I had no choice but to think about how I can make it better, fast.

I’m not in the whole ‘woe is me’ place. I’m just frustrated because I was really excited about starting something new.

I’m meant to be at a cocktail night tomorrow. And I’m not ruling it out yet!! I rarely go out and have been looking forward to this one. I’m thinking the alcohol will numb the pain – isn’t that the saying? Ha ha. It’s not over till the fat lady sings and this fat lady can’t sing so it will never be over! Ha ha. If – and it’s a big if – I make it, there won’t be any dancing, but I’m sure the rest of the ladies will make up for that.

Right. Time to get another ice pack. I will go to the (cocktail) ball tomorrow!

A New Plan

A New Plan

Goals have been set, races selected and work has began.  I am currently 3 days in to a new and more structured training plan so what better time to write about it?

I’m exhausted!  And it’s only been 3 days!! Talk about a wake up call!  Ultra training was tiring don’t get me wrong but going long and slow clearly worked for me because 1, I could keep my eyes open past 6pm at night and 2, I could still walk after a session.  Now some might say I clearly wasn’t going hard enough – and possibly the number of photo’s I would take during a race may be evidence towards that – but I enjoyed them.  I never felt like I was about to collapse and die or, even worse, throw up all over myself.

Current long term goals though involve slightly more than heading out the door with a hydration vest filled with flap jacks and returning a few hours later (usually a good 30 – 45 minutes longer than planned after getting lost but that really was part of the fun).

Day 1.  Swim.  Correction.  Longest swim I have ever done!  I remember the day I went to the pool and the swim club’s set was still written on the board.  ‘400m warm up’.  Warm up.  400m was my entire session that day.  It was pointed out to me that one day that would be my warm up.  Well.  Day 1 was that day!  Or to be more accurate, 500m was the warm up.  20 x 25m.  Never done that before.  First few were a bit strange but I got into it.  Then I forgot to start my watch for the main set so it looked like I had an extra long rest when in actual fact I was swimming 100m.  Rookie mistake there Ella come on.  I was meant to use paddles but pool rules state everyone in the lane has to agree to me using them.  They did not agree.  But they did kindly ‘keep out my way’ meaning I didn’t get caught behind them often so I appreciate that.

‘Keep out of my way’.  I mean seriously!  You would think I’m under the impression I own that lane!  But what other way can I say it? (however sometimes I do feel that it is MY lane I’m in there that often ha ha.  Just a shame my swimming doesn’t justify it).

After many, many checks of the watch to see what lap I am on it’s on to the cool down and I am eventually done.  I am not swimming one single length more.  Nah ah.  David in the health suite is my absolute saviour when I discover he has a tub of Heroes and I shove 2 in my mouth – almost with the wrapper still on I am that hungry!

BB82BBAC-1D4E-4C4C-A275-958C93472972

Day 2 and it’s a turbo.  I’m getting used to my turbo so I’m not dreading it.  I’ve also found a new series on Netflix to binge watch so that’s always a bonus.  I even manage to connect the cadence sensor to my watch ALL by myself.  Definitely a victory moment there for Ella.  It takes a while to adjust the gears enough to hit the numbers I am looking for but about half way through the session I get there.  I still don’t understand ‘big gear’ – why not just say ‘harder gear’ or easier gear’???  What’s big about it???  My legs don’t grow any by using it! Possibly my arse from all this sitting down but definitely not my legs (and that’s iI’m using it which I’m probably not – I did feel at one point my bike doesn’t have enough gears to do what I was meant to but I don’t know if you can add gears?  I know you can’t add them to a car.  Is it possible for a bike not to have enough gears?  God I’m really not a cyclist.)  Anyway.  Turbo done – but no chocolates devoured that night.

Day 3 and I decide today is the day I am going to run in the early morning again.  The hardest thing about running before the sun comes up is deciding what to wear.  Not in a ‘gok wan going out out’ style but more in a temperature way.  I opt for shorts because rule of thumb for me is that unless there is a full on blizzard with 10 inches of snow on the ground then shorts is the way to go.  T-shirt and long sleeve top is also selected (topless running isn’t a thing – and even if it was I wouldn’t be doing it).  The long sleeve top is quickly discarded.  I’ve got 6 x 2 min hard efforts.  Let me say it again.  ULTRA RUNNER.  Hard effort is basically not stopping to take a photo of the leaves falling from the trees or the funny sign at the side of the road.  It is NOT running until you throw up.  And trust me, it doesn’t take 2 minutes before I want to throw up!  I’ve dragged my friend along in an effort to try and make me do this.  She officially hates me and calls me all the names under the sun.  Clearly not doing a hard effort if you can still speak love!

5CDC46F7-2489-4629-80C1-F04AE6493D0D

Somehow we get through the 6 of them and slowly run home.  My stomach reminds me I haven’t been doing the same efforts or even mileage recently I am used to and there are a few very close moments.  I have to stand outside her flat as still as a statue at one point in a bid not to prevent anything escaping from my body.  I turn to cross the road and abruptly stop for a minute.  Think the scene in Bridesmaids when they are trying on dresses after that dodgy meal.  Yup.  That’s what flashed through my head.  Just minus the big white dress to hide under!

IMG_5110

Everyone is still asleep when I get home.

Off to work after and by 3pm I’m dipping.  An afternoon nap would have been amazing!  I’m so jealous of those that get to nap.  Why can’t I be an 80 year old women who can nap at any point she wants?  I think that should be my goal! Pretty sure I currently look like one I am that tired.

I’m just adjusting though.  I’m loving having a structure and I know that I can do it.  I also know what motivates me – and no it’s not a box of Heroes but I wouldn’t turn them down (although probably should).  Life may be like a box chocolates but in this case I do know what I am going to get….

Tired.  Very tired.  Ha ha.