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.

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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.

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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!

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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.

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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!

The Belly’s Gonna Get You

Ok 10 days – 10 solid days.  24 hours in each of them and I didn’t run once.  Not once.  I even dramatically cut down my steps every day aided by the fact I was teaching and not on pool side for 3 of those days.  Surely that was going to be long enough to get rid of the issue in my butt.

The day was set.  Schools were off (are they ever on?!) and my mum was having Oliver so I could get out and get it done.  10 miles.  That’s my aim.  This is going to be BRILLIANT!  10 pain free miles, including hills, pushing on the down hill cause I love to scare myself and almost fall (not so great when a little pee comes out but hey, it happens).  The route was planned.  I would catch up on all the miles I had missed in those very long 10 days.

Then my mum said she was staying in town so running to her house didn’t really work.  Ok.  No problem.  Different route then.  Hmm.  Well, to be honest, 10 miles might be pushing it.  Probably not the best idea to push that out just in case it pushes me back and deem the rest completely pointless.  Ok.  Up the river then.  And it feels good I ‘could’ always add on the extra (and by could I obviously mean I’m 100% doing 10 miles but trying to fool myself that I am not).

Oliver happily waddles off with his Nanny having not seen her in a little while.  Lucie (my daughter) has only just got out of bed in that typical ‘I’m a teenager I need to sleep’ state.  Ok.  T-shirt and shorts.  Where’s my shorts?  WHERE’s my shorts! HOW do your clothes go missing so quickly when you don’t wear them?  For goodness sake!  Can’t find them and the other pair are currently swirling round the washing machine.  Sake.  Ok,  I will try out my new adidas leggings.  Oooohh these are nice!  Little bit camel toe but no one should be looking there! Really comfy though (not the camel toe part, I can’t feel that, just looks like that).

Garmin on and I opt for music instead of a pod cast because this WILL be a great run!  It’s going to be all flying through the air with grace and speed.  There may even be rainbows.  Off I go.  Yup.  It’s awesome!  I feel great.  Little tricky breathing but that will settle down.   Pants appear to be falling down though (thank goodness I don’t run in a skirt).  I discreetly try to pull them back up – and by discreetly I mean I ram my hand down and yank them up so I now have a thong to go along with my camel toe.  I’ve opted for along the river which is flat because I know I love it further up.  I get to one km (this used to be my original 5km route when I started running so I know where every kilometre is ha ha).  Hmm, stomach is a bit funny.  I did do my pre run visit though so all should be good.  Maybe it’s just the Trek bar I had last night, it had chocolate on the top.  I get to a mile and have to stop.  I have to stop!  Nope, this definitely isn’t just a bit of chocolate.  It’s one mile!  Come on!

Ok back off running.  That was just a blip, ignore it.  8mins 20 for your first mile is still better than what you have been doing.  Half a mile more and my stomach is cramping.  What the actual hell.  Nope nope nope I will run it off!  No no no you won’t Ella!  I’m stopped at mile 2 again.  Every single human in the world is now looking at me wondering if I even know how to run as I am spending more time resting than actually moving.  Even those at their desks working away can see me and are just staring.  Paranoid much.  Ok get moving.

Mile 3 and I have to sit down.  Head in my hands.  Curled up in a ball.  I check my phone to see if Joe is nearby.  Dunfermline.  He sends me a photo of the golden post box.  I choose not to tell him I am out running and in need of a lift home due to a sore stomach.  I consider phoning my mum but I know I could get home faster by myself.  Do I really want to walk though?  Am I honestly going to walk when I should be running?   Not a chance.  I stand up and realise I have of course sat in mud and now look like I have poo’d myself.   Just another thing to add to the list.  Fantastic.  What’s next?  My sports bra breaks?  Let’s not joke about these things.

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3.5 miles and it’s another stop as I’m convinced I’m about to throw up.  The smell from the abattoir is most certainly not helping.  Note to self, if you ever learn how to run again don’t come along the river anymore.  It is actual death.  Although if someone could kill me now I’m not sure I would object.

Onward’s I go in my camel toe, pants falling down, mud that looks like poo on my bum state of athleticism.   Aren’t I setting the perfect picture example to all around.  (Which thankfully is no one even if I do think I’m on the Truman Show – is that a camera on that tree?).  I’m stopping constantly but my goal is 4 miles and then I will walk home.  2 miles is too far not to run so I force myself to go to 5 miles switching tactics and putting a pod cast on.  It’s a guy that has walked across the Antarctic in 54 days unsupported.  Well don’t I feel bloody pathetic!  I’ve stumbled to 4 miles and am doing the whole ‘I can’t go on’.  Suck it up.  I plod along eventually making it to 5 miles, pace has gone out the window – obviously – and keep going to stop and walk but instead….just keep going.  Stubbornness.  Pure stubbornness.

I get home and lie down straight away.  Lucie asks if she should phone Nanny.  What a mess!  I tell her no it’s just a little sore stomach, nothing much.  ‘I thought it was your legs that hurt mum?’

My legs!  I haven’t felt my legs – or my butt – at all!  Well just a little in the hamstring but nothing really.  But then to be fair I wasn’t exactly running.  So it wasn’t really a good test.  Still, I’m taking that as a positive.

So that was that.  My first run after 10 days rest which should have been all rainbows and smooth flying but was instead cramping soreness with god only knows what going on with my bottom half – no leg or butt pain though!

Who said running was boring?

It Didn’t Feel Good

How much crap can one person honestly have thrown at them?

Bucket loads! Truck loads even!

And I fear there’s more to come…

I just got turned down for an interview for a receptionist! An interview. I didn’t even get an interview!! For a receptionist!

Wasn’t even a prestigious place. I’m reliably told the wine there is crap and it’s not somewhere many would recommend. Truth be told I had completely forgotten I had even applied. But that’s not the point. No I don’t think I’m ‘too good for the job’ but I could do the job. Guess they’ll never know.

What an insight into the job seeking world. What an eye opener I’ve been getting. I’m still traumatised by the job centre. And I’m still applying for minimum wage paid jobs because they are just the teensiest bit related to what I really want to do.

I had an ‘interesting’ conversation with the woman who is taking my first course at the end of the month. I phoned to pay the balance (education is expensive people, stay in school!) and I could not help myself blurting out ’em, everyone’s not half my age on the course are they? I mean I’m not going to be like the granny at the side?’

She found this hilarious. And on reflection thank god as that could have gone drastically wrong! She said without checking dates of birth she couldn’t say but generally there’s a bit of a mix. Mostly young people but you do get older folk.

End goal Ella. Focus on the end goal.

And as for my running? Here comes the truck.

5 full days of no running. I was climbing the walls. I was icing, swimming, yoga-ing my ass off. The morning of day 6 I pulled on my shorts and t-shirt, laced up my trainers and headed out. The plan was to test it for the first mile and if all was good carry on for 3.

Not even 100 metres and it was sore. Nothing had changed. 5 days and nothing.

Obviously I complained on my instagram instantly.

A couple of people suggested that, given where the pain was, it could be hamstring Tendinopathy. I googled it. I cried. A lot! 3-6 months recovery.

At the chiropractor and I was instantly on it. ‘I ran this morning and it still hurt. It’s been suggested it’s this hamstring thing. Could it be that? The pain seems to be right where that is.’

‘Hi Ella how are you? What happened to not running until Monday?’

Oh yeah, may have missed that. I just wanted to test it on Friday though. And as for my manners…..

‘Sorry, sorry, it’s just getting to me a bit. Hi,how are you?’

She then showed me why it wasn’t the hamstring thing by pushing on exactly where the pain was. Too high for it to be that. Adjustments followed – she shot me in the neck with her adjuster! – and gave me some stretches. I’m back Monday. No running.

It wasn’t until I was walking out that I realised she had, in the most politest of ways possible, told me to stop googling. How did she do that?

So lots of ‘not so feel good’ moments this week but if life was easy it would be boring. To keep me focused I have written out my marathon training plan on a huge piece of paper that will be pinned to the wall ready for when I can get back to it. I’ve taken the plan straight from the book of a well known marathon runner. I will tell you about my library visit later. (Mortification honestly).

And of course next week is our wedding anniversary so hopefully we will get out for a nice meal and then we have a little trip away. Life could be worse. Let’s be honest.