How is this happening?

Serious question. Needs to be asked in all caps.

HOW IS THIS STILL HAPPENING??

I’m still suffering from pain in my glutes and hamstring. That’s a year. An entire year! 52 weeks, 365 days – a bloody year!!

Yes I still managed to hobble round a 100km race and a 33 miler but they weren’t exactly stellar performances! Quite frankly they were borderline embarrassing. In fact, let’s not talk about them. Given a baby could crawl faster.

I had a few weeks of next to no running – just 2/3 days. Slight improvement. I mean, I can run a few miles before the pain hits. I no longer care about my pace as my focus is distance so if I’m doing 9 minute miles than so be it. Even if it is just a 5 mile run. But I would prefer it to be closer to 8 let’s be honest.

I’ve been back to physio who discovered I had no reaction what so ever to being hit by a hammer (very strange as I was immensely worried my leg would fly up and kick her in the face but nope, nothing). Are you doing any stretching or exercises to help your legs she asks me.

Ermmmm

This is the odd bit. You see I very much know exactly what I should be doing to help build up my incredible lack of muscle (sometimes I wonder how I’m able to walk my body appears to be that pathetically weak right now) but for some unknown reason I’m just not doing them. I have no discipline what so ever. It’s insulting. The drive and thirst has gone. I can run. It hurts like a mother f…. but I can run. Therefore the arrogance – or could it be laziness – in me has decided to go f@ck it. Run slow, run in pain, but don’t try to fix it.

I would love at this point to say ‘well enough is enough!’ Or something equally as self righteous and poignant but I know it would be a lie. So I’m not going to. I’m not going to declare some huge master plan of how I’m going to fix myself and get back to the goal of a 3:45 marathon. Nope. I’m just going to honestly say – bleurgh.

2 days ago I had planned a 10 mile run. I should be running further just now but 10 miles fitted in to the days schedule. I forced myself to 7 and phoned to get picked up. I was on my way to my parents and Joe was bringing the car anyway so it was more of a ‘don’t drive past me pick me up please’ request. It hurt. It hurt really bad. I carried on and just as the garmin said 9 miles our car pulled up in front of me.

The old me, the me a year ago, would have said ‘it’s only another mile, doesn’t matter, I will see you there’ and forced that last torture. Not now. Not that day. And I’m so glad I didn’t. It didn’t stop hurting until the next day. I couldn’t sit comfortably, couldn’t lie in bed easily, it just hurt all the time.

So after reality hit me on the head (or arse to be more accurate) I decided I have no choice but to stop running for a solid 5 days.

I’m on day 2 and it is KILLING me. I’ve been to the gym, I’ve been swimming, I’ve bought 2 more books to read and countless magazines but oh my god I’m bored!! And restless.

But every time I think ‘maybe just a few miles’ I remember stopping at mile 9 of my 10 mile run. I don’t do that. That isn’t me. So something was killing me.

I’ve booked an ultra for the end of March. I can’t really afford any time off training. But if I can’t really run it what’s the freaking point?

I also have another race in which there is someone who is going to try their damnedest to beat me. I am their target, I am their goal. If I’m honest, it’s that that has maybe finally made me get up off the couch and do my stretches. It’s pee’d me off I won’t lie. Yes I pick people to try and beat in a race but not people who are injured! That’s not a win! Have some respect.

Do I have a grand master plan? No. Are they going to beat me? There’s a high possibility. The ultra – at the moment – is my main focus, not that piddily wee race. So if I have to slow down to prevent further issues I will (I say that now but on the day…. who knows).

As you can probably tell I’m just a bit frustrated right now. Im fed up of my arse hurting and I just want to run. Pain free. I’ve found an entertaining pod cast that helps keep my sludge of a pace even so I’m ready for Saturday to lace up the trainers and get out there.

Will I last it out until Saturday? Who knows. Will I completely fall out of love with running if I don’t run until Saturday? That’s a fear, I won’t lie. What if I decide to just stop altogether? (I’m starting to have a panic attack now).

We will see.

Advertisements

Sticks and Stones

In just a few days I will be a broken woman.  (Nothing new there then for 2018!)

No, jokes aside, in 3 days I am going to be running in the only goal race that I have managed to hold on to this year.  But one is better than zero.  And it’s a biggie!

100km.  62 miles.  And it doesn’t finish at Stonehenge. You’ve no idea how disappointed I was when I figured that one out (much to Joe and my fathers amusement).

Q. Why call it Race To The ‘Stones’ then? Hmmf

The injuries lifting and I’m running again. I’ve lost so much speed and it’s really dis-heartening but at least for this challenge speed isn’t what I need. It’s discipline. The dreaded discipline of running sensibly, efficiently, listening to your body.

It’s been a long time since I did something that has had me this anxious and worried. But if it doesn’t scare you it’s not worth it? Well I’ve been needing a constant change of underwear every time I’ve thought about this so consider me well and truly scared.

I don’t know what it is that has me like this though. It doesn’t make sense. I’m back running. It’s an ultra so it’s got nothing to do with time, just the finish line. There’s no clock watching on this run. I’ve read many, many comments and the mantra is always ‘run the flats and walk the hills – conserve energy’.

Is it the fact I’m by myself for 100km? All my training runs are done alone. And I will admit, recently I’ve been feeling very lonely. I don’t have a ‘group’ or a ‘squad’ helping me along when it’s hard. And sometimes it’s been really hard. But most my running has been like that. I occasionally go out with Lorner (after which we congratulate ourselves with copious amounts of wine ha ha) but not that often. We have different running plans. I used to have my lunch time running buddy but then life changed. I like running alone, it’s my head space time, but maybe too much head space is bad for you?

As for the idea of camping at base camp over night by myself with hundreds of strangers, not knowing a soul? Well I would definitely say that’s a contributing factor. But it’s not it entirely.

It’s maybe the thought of failure. The very real possibility of hundreds of reasons why I could not make it.

  1. It’s bloody far
  2. My training has been to pot thanks to being bloody injured
  3. I failed at Manchester
  4. I had issues at Loch Katrine
  5. I have no speed in my legs at all
  6. I got pulled from the Highland Fling so what makes me think I can do this?
  7. It’s hot. So damn hot. Like the sun has forgotten that Scotland is a no fly zone, restricted area, do not pass Gretna Green, do not collect £200! Go back to England! (Oh wait, that’s where I am)
  8. I don’t know the area – bloody Stonehenge my arse

That’s just 8. There’s many more. And no doubt some that include water issues!

See if I drown doing this run!!

Truth be told I’m quite glad I have found something that scares me this much and is keeping me awake the last couple of weeks. It’s that weird thrill you get. That ‘oh my god am I actually doing this? I cry every time I think of it!’ But then a song comes on your playlist, or on the radio, or in a shop (it’s happened, don’t judge) and you just break out in a ‘hell yeah I can DO this!!’.

And that’s usually followed by being asked to leave the shop as your fist pumps and dancing is scaring the other customers.

However. The Greatest Showman is back on my playlist. As is my go to song (The Script – Hall Of Fame, chest pumps every damn time). And I’m picturing myself at the finish line. Not that I know what it looks like anymore.

Will I make it? Who knows at this point. I bloody want it though! How long is it going to take me? Absolutely no idea – have you ever ran 100km? Me neither.

But soon. I will have.

Baywatch – not quite

A few weeks ago I signed up to do something never in my life had I ever considered doing before – a Lifeguard course.

Yup. She who swims like a dead fly thought being a lifeguard was achievable.

I will give you a minute to stop laughing and wipe the tears from your eyes…..

Ok. Let’s start with signing up.

There weren’t any courses in my city within the next few weeks of me deciding this but there was one in the next city. This had its benefits. It would be unlikely I would know any one there so I could keep it secret, and, with the extremely high chance of me failing, this would mean fewer people finding this out. Why should that be a concern? It shouldn’t. But it is. I find it very difficult when people talk about me.  But I’m working on ignoring it.

So I signed up to do it in Dundee.  What a call that was.  Oh my.  I may have previously worked in a call centre but I wasn’t on the phones.  This turns out to be a good thing as I am useless on the telephone.  There is no delete button and I blurt things out without thinking.  ‘Am I the oldest on the course?  I mean I don’t really care as I am doing it anyway but a heads up if I am going to be the granny in the corner would be good.’  The woman on the other end of the phone found this hilarious – don’t know why.  She basically said without checking dates of birth she couldn’t tell me but they do get a range of ages however most are quite young.  Cue panic number one.  Founded on embarrassment and confirmation that I will indeed be the wrinkly in the white bobble swim cap.  Great.

The course was 30 miles away presenting Fear Number 2. Finding the bloody place. For someone who gets lost in a packet of crisps this is the stuff night terrors are made of. Just during the day. Awake. And living through it.  I had to leave before I could drop the kids off and wouldn’t be back until late so it was old faithful Nanny to the rescue again.  What would we do without my mum?

Needless to say the night before I got very little sleep.  The clock said 4:30am the last time I looked at it and the alarm went off at 6am.  So many fears going through my head.  Could I really do this?  I’ve never considered myself a good swimmer.  Should I be doing this?  I’m 36 and have 3 kids, I have responsibilities.  The easy and obvious choice would be an office job surely.   What if I couldn’t do it?  Didn’t pass?  Could I take yet another blow this year?

3 wrong turns and a near collision because I was in the wrong lane and I was sat in the car park at the college.  Deep breaths Ella, deep breaths.  I had forced down a banana for breakfast knowing that I would need energy and had sipped on a red bull to try and get me awake.  The instructor was called Marco and he was from Italy.  His accent was strong and he had been doing this for a long time.  ‘You’re not actually the oldest here’ he said to me.

Mortified.  I was mortified.  Quite clearly my little slip on the telephone had done the rounds.

We started with learning how to use the torpedo and how to pull someone.  I repeatedly caught my feet in the strap and kept getting burns.  But I had to be able to pull someone holding on to it for 20 metres – fast.  And that someone was guaranteed to be bigger than me.  Then, as if that wasn’t going to be hard enough, I had to dive 3 metres and retrieve a heavy manikin.

Excuse me how deep?? That’s literally twice my height!  No word of a lie!  What number of Fear am I up to now?

After a morning in the pool we had a break and were able to catch our breath and talk to each other.  It was a class of 12 and we ranged from just turning 16 the week before to over 40.  There was even a fellow mum there.  The rest of the day was spent in the classroom before returning to the pool to learn more holds.

Unsurprisingly I was exhausted when I got home.  And I had a book the size of War and Peace to read through.

The next day was much the same.  Although this time I managed to cut it down to just 2 wrong turns on the way there.  I passed the swim test and I retrieved the manikin.  I almost kept a straight face when Marco referred to 2 guys on the course as ‘sinkers’ – his translations weren’t always the most accurate shall we say.  Luckily the guys he was referring to took it in good spirits (although one of them looked like he had zero body fat and was skin and bones – sinker was an interesting word for that one).  I wasn’t fast in the pool at all but I wasn’t the slowest.  I had to work really hard but I could do it.  Just.  This scared me.  I didn’t want to just scrape through.  The threat of failing was always there.  Marco stayed and chatted to 3 of us after the pool on Tuesday and we practised a bit more.  I went home feeling slightly better, but definitely not confident.  I was also covered in bruises – from swimming? – getting in and out of a pool is hazardous for your health!

Wednesday came and it all went wrong.  It will forever be known as Woeful Wednesday.  It started with the journey there.  I added a speeding ticket to my 2 wrong turns, 1 wrong lane and now bump on the kerb.  I almost got lost in the campus trying to get to the pool – yes the same pool I had spent the last 2 days in.  Worst of all, I failed my swim test.  I had to get under 45 seconds and I was 46.  When I was towing the casualty back with my arm we just didn’t move through the water.  The problems kept on coming.  I dropped the manikin in the deep water rescue and almost didn’t surface with it first time.  In the final exam you get one chance and one chance only.  Then my hand slipped pulling myself out the water and I landed on my shoulder with a thud.  Something else to add to my embarrassment and multitude of bruises.  In the classroom I felt I wasn’t picking anything at all up and when ever I asked a question Marco didn’t seem to understand me.

That night I sent a frantic essay of a message to a guy in the road runners who was a lifeguard.  He gave me a call.  ‘Ok, first thing, take a breath, stop panicking.  Why are you doing it in a 3 metre pool though?  Perth pools are only 1.8’.  He talked me through what the assessment would be, the key things I would need to know for the exam and for being in the job.   As it turns out he is an assessor too.  I spent the entire time kicking myself for not waiting until he was running a course.  Why was I putting myself through this when the pool in Perth isn’t as deep as 3 metres?   What was I thinking?  Just because I was a wimp and was scared someone might recognise me – what do you think is going to happen if you end up working at your local pool?  That no one at all you know from your 36 years of living in the same place is going to come in?  They are all going to stop going?  Put your big girl pants on for god sake!  Honestly!

Thanks to that call I did manage some sleep that night but not much.  I kept dreaming I was going to slip and bang my head, fall in the water, blood pouring everywhere, Marco annoyed at the mess I was making, everyone looking at me and shaking their heads – not saving me because I should be able to save myself, and then of course there were ‘things’ in the water.  Something else to add to the long list of failures of 2018.  It’s no wonder I didn’t really sleep.

In the car on Thursday morning and I was white as a sheet feeling sick as a dog.  I had dropped to only 30% convinced I could do this.  The chat I had the night before was great and it had helped calm me down so I tried to just think about what he had said and that he was honest admitting it is a tough course.  Driving along and Kelly Clarkson’s Stronger came on.  I started tapping the wheel.  Kind of out of nervousness but also out of a bit of ‘come on, push yourself a little’.  I started singing along.  I got louder and louder.  The tears started.  First just a few drops but very quickly that was it.  Floods of tears, eyes streaming, voice screaming along to the radio.  ‘What doesn’t kill you makes you STRONGER, stand a little TALLER’.  Oh what a sight!!

But it worked.  I needed to get it out.  I felt slightly better.  Slightly stronger.

Can you smell the cheese?

Standing at the pool waiting for the swim test and I was back to shaking.  Well that burst in the car didn’t last long.  I asked my swim partner if I could go first.  She could tell I was nervous as hell – THAT I am 100% confident of!  ‘Of course you can, don’t worry, we will practise as much as you need’.  She had failed it the day before as well and was also nervous but she had a strong resolve of just trying again.  I had a plan though.  On the first test I had 15 seconds to spare.  If I held back on that one I could give more on the second. I had to get under 45 seconds on it. I couldn’t take failing on it.  It would kill me.

First swim done and it went as planned.  Then it was straight on to the second.  Nerves were just horrendous.

‘3 whistles lifeguard going in’ – I was off.  I reached my casualty and I was on the way back.  My legs have never kicked so hard in my life.  I was trying to pull exactly as I had been told.  I crossed the line and looked desperately up at Marco.  ’38 seconds’.

‘Fuck yes! Oh god sorry for my language!’  The relief was immediate.  I needed that.  My partner nailed her swim test too.  As for the manikin – not easy but done.

Friday was much the same.  Pool in the morning with the swim test and holds, classroom before and after lunch then back to the pool.  We were put in to 2 groups of six and our group worked well together.  We took tips from the younger ones who were club swimmers and we shared advice with them on how to study for the questions.  Turns out we all had our strengths and that in itself helped to boost confidence.

Saturday was exam day.  It was an early start of 8.30am and through what can only be described as a miracle I found myself sitting in the car park at 7.30am.  No wrong turns.  But maybe a wrong lane.  It’s hard to tell.  Sitting outside in the sun everyone started to arrive and we discussed holds, CPR and nerves.  I was unsure I was going to pass this and even though you get a few weeks to re-sit I really didn’t want to be in that position.  No it wouldn’t make any difference in reality but in my head, it would.

Standing at the side of the pool and there was only 11 of us.  One of the younger lads hadn’t turned up.  The assessor asked someone to call him.  No answer.  An important part of being a lifeguard is being on time as a pool can never be left unattended.  We had our first fail.

Swim test was first.  I wanted to get mine out the way but it was assessors choice so I ended up in the second group.  Deep breaths.  In and out.  Slowly.  First test done.  Straight on the second.  A quick look at the clock and I can see I have done it.  Oh thank god!  We worked our way through the rest of the pool test.  It was intense.  There were tears from a few.  I heard the assessor from the other group say he had never seen anyone do a hold like that before and don’t ever do it again.  This was intense.

We re-grouped in the showers before the classroom test.  The other group had been told they had all passed the water test but they couldn’t get a single thing wrong in the classroom.  Our assessor hadn’t told us if we had passed or not.

I was confident with the questions so tried to focus on that.  I’m a bookworm, I can study, and if it is something I’m interested in I will research the sh!t out of it.  Yup.  You found my geek spot.  Unfortunately we were in a gym hall next to another gym hall that was holding a HIIT class.  So questions went like this ‘give a sign and symptom of go deeper 2,3,4‘.  Nightmare.

We moved on to the CPR to find the other group had finished.  Out of the 5 of them that had turned up 2 had failed.  We were up to 3 fails.

CPR done and it was an anxious wait.  I tried so hard to tell myself I could re-sit in a couple of weeks and I would be more relaxed with it.  I expected the fail.

So when he said I had passed, well, to say I was happy is an understatement!  I had done it!

This was different from anything I have ever done before.  When I have signed up to something there has always been a time I could see myself crossing the finish line.  With this, for some reason I just couldn’t picture that conversation of ‘you’ve passed’.  And I don’t know why.  Maybe it’s because this is more serious.  If I’m the lifeguard on and get something wrong someone could actually die.  No one loses their life if I don’t finish my race or don’t run it within a time I had set myself.  We had 4 fails in the end out of 12 who had started the course.  We had someone injure their knee in the pool, someone who was sick after a swim test because they were pushing themselves so hard – and we all had the shakes from nerves.

I have no idea why I failed my swim test that once but that’s all it takes to remove that last sliver of confidence you have.  My mid-week freak out was only calmed down by being able to speak to someone who understood and I trusted.   Instead of shutting down I was honest and asked for help.  When I told my friend about my speeding ticket and he replied ‘shame you don’t swim that fast’ it didn’t help in the same way no, but it made me laugh.  (and he better hope I never have to save him as I bet he could reach the bottom of the 3 metre people he’s that big, ha ha)

So my first steps in changing career are done.  I’m on the first rung of a ladder that goes 40 storeys high and no doubt 300 metres wide.  Let’s see where this takes me.

P.M.A – Focus

Positive Mental Attitude. That’s what I’m focusing on.

Desperately focusing on.

Just about clinging on to….

On the grand scale of things, really, the weeks been, well, not awful. If you take the whole week.

Monday I had the chiropractor and I also went to see Steve who is a PT. he had offered to see if there was anything he could do to help me get running again. A few ‘Steve style’ exercises later and it felt better when I was running round the car park. Result! This left me feeling really, really positive and there may just be light at the end of the tunnel.

So I went for a run on Tuesday with Lorner. And had to stop. Twice. I even had to walk up a slight bump. (It wasn’t a hill, I won’t insult it). The 10 mile race I’m meant to be doing is totally out the window. As is the Summer Series the club does. I’m going to miss one of the races of the series due to one of Joes races so it wasn’t worth pushing it for Wednesdays race.

Wednesday I was back at the chiropractor, back in my depressed mood. No running for a week she said. She suggested swimming to keep my fitness up and to keep my mental health where it needs to be. I like her. She understands.

Thursday was our wedding anniversary so I was getting my eyebrows threaded and my nails done. Yup. That one time a year I remember I really should make an effort to look more like a wife and not a Lycra clad 8 year old boy. I’ve always gone to the same place to get my eyebrows done but it was a different person there on Thursday. A little taken aback that the same person who did them last year wasn’t there this year I paid my money and sat in the chair, awaiting the pulling to start. She gets the thread out and starts.

Oh my days!! What are you doing woman!! I just want a tidy up. I don’t want to be bald! She was skinning me alive I swear. That wasn’t hair being pulled off with that tiny thread but half my face! Of course she couldn’t tell how astonished I was at this because I had no more eyebrow to raise!

She kept going.

Make it stop, make it stop, please – I begged. I’m happy telling myself I’m beautiful on the inside, stuff being beautiful on the outside if this is what it takes! He’s already married me. Contracts signed. Deals done.

Once she was finished she handed me a paper tissue. Pretty sure she kept my skin tissue as some sort of trophy.

Next up was my nails. I sat down and apologised for looking like an extra from the Walking Dead with my half eaten face. She just laughed. Although did point out it looked like there maybe bruising. She wasn’t wrong there. I was tempted to go back round the butchers and give her some bruising. Hmmf.

Thankfully I had a good laugh at the nail place. She told me how she had re-trained a few years ago to do something she actually liked and she had the same sense of humour as me (ladies day at the local races can look an awful lot like My Gypsy Wedding vs The Royal Wedding) so I had a much better afternoon. And that night we went out for dinner to the place we got married. I still love that view from the restaurant each and every time, no matter the weather, and the owners always welcome us with huge hugs.

Which takes me to Friday. We were meant to be away but we had to postpone it to the following week as my appointment for my MRI came through quicker than expected. I’m in two minds about describing my experience of this as I really don’t want to put anyone off who has to have this very common, very routine scan done. So I’ve written it up separately and may or may not post it at a later date. (I might just keep it for my book).

What I will say just now is that the nurses/technicians were absolutely fantastic! Unbelievable at managing me and getting the job done. I was pathetic to say the least. So much so in fact that I did very little the rest of the day. But it has left me with a stronger will. (Apologies if that sounds cryptic, it’s really not meant to be). If I can force myself through that then things aren’t that bad.

Saturday there was no parkrun – no running for a week. Instead I went along to cheer on Lorner at her half marathon. Go Lorner!! Took the kids and my youngest loved getting high fives. It was awesome.

Then it was packing for a trip away with Joe. Just the 2 of us.

Next week I’m doing something new, and I’m absolutely bricking it. I have a pre-course test tomorrow and there’s no reason I shouldn’t pass it unless I freak and panic. There’s a possibility!

No! No I wont do that. It will be fine. I can do this.

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.

Hello May

2018 – it’s time for me take my year back!

I’ve had enough of your nonsense, your set backs, your spanner’s – YOU are now the spanner!

(I know that doesn’t really work but you get my point)

I’m only looking forward now. May is a good month for me. It’s the month I met and married my husband (not in the same year, calm down). It’s before half way in the year meaning any change gives me more than half the year to celebrate it and own it. I’m taking control!

She says, as she sits here on her foam roller, not running.

That’s right. NOT running. Because I need to get rid of this QL and hamstring issue before running again. So I’m doing a Ross and Rachel. It’s ‘on a break’ time.

Today is day 3 of the break. I think it feels better. I’m praying it doesn’t hurt when I lace up my trainers again. I’ve also booked in for a back and leg transplant if this doesn’t work.

Joking.

I’ve also taken steps with the work side of my life. I’ve signed up to 2 different courses which is going to take me in a completely different direction. Insurance IS boring and I don’t want to do it again. I might end up having to take on an office job or part time job to fund my studies but I don’t care. I’m focused on the end goal. I will be starting at the bottom and I’m just about over the shock of how little minimum wage is but like I say, end goal.

So for the next few days it’s swimming and hopefully some cycling. I will NOT put my trainers on before Thursday – that will be 4 full days no running. If it doesn’t feel good Thursday I will take them off again.

Yup. That’s my plan.

I can do it.

I can.

Surely.

Yup.

God I hope so.

It’s a No from me

Confession time.

This weekend I am meant to be running my second Ultra Trail Marathon.

I am not.

I received an email from the events medical doctor asking for a letter from Mr Cardio stating I was ok to run the 53 mile route.

I’m pretty sure he spat his coffee out when I asked for it.

Instead he insisted on seeing me to ‘talk about things’. Last time I heard those words I was dumped so I took this as a good sign! If he was ‘dumping’ me then that meant I didn’t have a problem and I could run.

Naive to the very end Ella.

I will be honest. There were many tears over the phone begging for this letter but even his assistant couldn’t be convinced. I was politely but firmly told I shouldn’t be participating in such endurance events.

This happened before Manchester. Before what was meant to be my GFA race. So now you know why I wasn’t having a class 1 tantrum at not getting that time and picking up the issue with my hamstrings. I already knew it was highly unlikely to happen at that race and I was lucky not to be pulled from it. I actually think the hamstring issue was my bodies way of forcing me to take it easy.

My appointment with him was after I ran Manchester (and I use the word ‘ran’ very loosely). He seemed to understand just how big a part of my life running is but he wasn’t budging. I didn’t really know what to say when he told me he was dreading me coming in. I knew what he meant though. He couldn’t give me any answers other than ‘your heart isn’t normal’. I have an MRI coming up but even if that shows up nothing it doesn’t mean anything. And now he thinks when my heart is beating it beats too fast.

The medical world is confusing.

When I spoke to the race medic he was very nice. He didn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know. If something did happen and the medical team were attending to me then that prevents them getting to someone else. I am classed as high risk – even though nothings ever happened. His words were ‘people like you give me kittens’. Good thing I don’t take things too personally! First Mr Cardio not looking forward to seeing me and then the race medic saying I was giving him kittens! That’s enough to give anyone a complex!

I completely understand though. It isn’t fair on the volunteers or the race in the unlikely event I did have a problem.

But what does this mean for Race To The Stones?

I’ve had to agree to do it over two days and not one as planned. It’s a compromise. I still get to run but just not quite the race I had hoped for. But I’m still running it. Let’s just take this one step at a time. No need to over react.

So this weekend when my fellow PRR’s take to the West Highland Way I will be running a very slow handful of miles at the most. I’ve still got races to look forward to and The Highland Fling have guaranteed I can get a place next year (provided I get signed off obviously).

2018 – you’re certainly testing me!