Tag: sport

Ultra Training Update: Week 4.5

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Anyone who read Too Much Too Soon will know that I was (predictably) too enthusiastic about having signed up to an ultramarathon as I managed to injure myself within a week. Having seen the lovely Hampshire rugby physiotherapist, I have suspected tib post tendinopathy. I won’t bore you with the details but it kind of falls under the umbrella term shin splints. This means that, since week 1 of training, I haven’t been running – not the best start.

 

Unfortunately I’m the most impatient, gung-ho person on Earth so this has been mega frustrating. However, it has encouraged me to diversify my training. I’m still yet to develop a consistent exercise programme as I’m more of a “wing it” person than a person capable of sticking to rules and schedules, but (like my uni work) I know this is something I should really do.

 

It turns out there’s more to cardio than running. In the gym I’ve spent a lot more time on the cross trainer, ventured onto the exercise bike and dabbled with the rowing machine, as well as trying to maintain my weights routine. The cross trainer was particularly good as I managed to get some uni reading done and watch a few things on iplayer, but I had to limit my time on it after it started to make my shin ache. Cycling also got my heart rate up and rowing is surprisingly tiring but, like anything, seems to get easier once you’ve pushed through the initial tough 15 minutes or so.

 

I also dipped my toes into the pool, as you may have read in Swimming Rediscovered. I’ve only gone three times, for which I blame my pain-in-the-backside knot-forming, slow-drying hair (a rubbish excuse I know) but each time I’ve done at least a mile and it’s felt really good. I also swam in the river at Shawford (very cold) and the quay at Bosham (almost balmy), which were both invigorating experiences that I’d only recommend if you’re okay with unseen things touching your feet.

 

Over the early May bank holiday a miracle happened: the sun got lost and ended up in England. I dug my beloved and too-long-neglected Specialized Rockhopper out the shed and treated it to a beautiful ride in the New Forest. I’ve always considered myself a through-and-through mountain biker, but this 20-ish mile route around the North West of the Forest showed me the light of road cycling (but that’ll be another post).

 

Two days later I cycled the short (16 mile round) distance from Winchester to Alresford and back and was reminded of the simple formula that prevented me ever achieving regular cyclist status: saddle + bottom = ouch.

 

Between these bike days I braved the sunny Sunday traffic down towards West Wittering beach – big mistake. Over an hour’s worth of traffic later we launched the kayak at West Itchenor and spent a glorious afternoon paddling 6-ish miles around the creeks – the good, steady workout which inspired On Kayaking.

 

I went to rugby training last week to try a gentle jog on grass, and I was delighted that it felt okay – barely a twinge. I plan to start running again this week, and this time I really do intend to take it uncharacteristically gently and slowly.

 

All in all, I’m equal parts furious and exasperated at myself for causing this first hurdle, but also a little bit pleased to have had so much fun with other forms of exercise. I’ll definitely be incorporating cross trainers, rowing machines, bikes, kayaks, pools, rivers, seas and anything else I can get my hands on into my cardio regime, and fingers crossed I’ll be running around like a clueless, grinning idiot again soon.

 

Swimming Rediscovered

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I’m probably the most impatient and restless injured person on the planet, and unfortunately suspected “tib post tendinopathy” has sentenced me to an unknown period of no running. Desperate to keep my fitness up, this week I’ve been cross training, rowing, cycling and – for the first time in way too long – swimming.

 

I used to be a really ungainly swimmer. I learnt quite quickly but messed around in swimming lessons and was never interested in technique. After getting a part-time job as a lifeguard in 2011 I decided to get better, so I slipped (literally) into the pool a few times and worked on my stroke, kick and breathing. Hours of lifeguarding swimming lessons and being forced to watch people swim (the most monotonous job you could imagine) probably helped, and now I’m marginally less ungainly.

 

I haven’t been for ages and have some poor excuses. My hair is really long and I’m certain there are little pool-demons that tie it in the most inextricable knots. I know the lifeguards so I’ll end up chatting and/or being made fun of. Pool water is really disgusting – full of people’s body oils, skin cells, wee, hair and dissolved farts (by far the truest and most legitimate excuse).

 

Excuses aside, I turned up at the pool on Thursday intending to do a mile (64 lengths) and expecting to struggle with fitness and boredom. Stretching my arms and legs out in a relaxed front crawl felt great for about 10 lengths, until I felt unfit and bored. Then I found myself secretly racing the fastest person in the fast lane, a 50-something year old swimmer with a super-efficient looking technique.

 

Safe to say he was out of my league, so I got tired, frustrated and splashy. I rested and chose to stick to the slightly slower pace set by “swim hat lady” as I had no idea how quick I should go. She helped me a lot, and I started to settle into a (slightly messy) rhythm.

 

Two things slowed my progress, both involving my cheap H&M bikini bottoms: my waist-length hair kept tangling in the tie-strings, and I didn’t trust them to hold fast as I kicked off from the wall. It would  be no fun for anyone, least of all me, if they decided to go whereabouts. Tip: buy actual swimwear designed for actual swimming.

 

As the pool became less busy, I focused less on whether I was getting in anyone’s way and more on my technique. I’ve always breathed on every fourth stroke, always on my right side. I have a bad habit of holding my breath rather than blowing bubbles under water. I decided to try breathing every third stroke as I’d heard something about muscles developing/tightening non-symmetrically if you only breathe on one side. It felt unnatural and awkward but more doable than I expected, and my stroke became a bit smoother the more I lumbered through the water. Breathing this way actually felt more natural after a while, so perhaps every fourth stroke had  always been too long.

 

I finally felt I had settled into a good rhythm at about length 55, despite getting foot cramp and swimming a couple of half lengths looking as if I’d been shot. I felt so good after a mile that I decided to bump it up to 100 lengths (I’m a bit obsessive about round numbers) and oddly enough it only got easier as I relaxed more, despite calf cramp kicking in at length 87.

 

Every time I lost count I rounded down, so I ended up doing 106 lengths (2.65km) according to my borrowed Swimtag band. I felt so good that I’d have kept going if the pool didn’t close. I just couldn’t believe that a) it took 50-60 lengths to settle into a comfortable rhythm, b) after 64 lengths I felt less tired than after 10, and c) changing my breathing stroke helped so much. Okay it took about an hour, but I did keep pausing to de-mist goggles, untangle hair and have a drink.

 

I know this is probably a really boring post but I wanted to document my return to swimming. Despite the arduous fight to detangle my hair in the shower I really enjoyed it; there’s something so therapeutic and solitary about being in the water, particularly once you push past the initial “wall” and settle into a rhythm. I recommend giving it a go. I’m glad to have rediscovered a low impact, non-self-destructive way to keep fit, and I think I’ll invest in more suitable swimwear and (maybe) a swim hat. Even though my heart is in the lakes, rivers and seas, sometimes the pool just has to do.

Time to ditch our running shoes?

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In Christopher McDougall’s Born to Run, a guy called Barefoot Ted swears by running with minimal foot protection and it kind of makes sense. Our feet evolved over millions of years to transport us everywhere, and we’ve have been running the entire time. Da Vinci called the foot “a masterpiece of engineering and a work of art”, and McDougall compares it to a complex, super-strong suspension bridge. It has 26 bones, 33 joints, 107 ligaments, 19 muscles and some tendons (thanks Google). Thousands of nerve endings make the feet mega-sensitive to stimuli (hence they’re ticklish).

 

Such acute responsiveness to pain taught our ancestors to run the way evolution intended, not the way running trainers enable us to. In contrast with the super-long-term evolution of the foot, the cushioned, supportive, “corrective” running shoe has been around less than a century. 80% of trainer-clad runners strike the ground heel first, whereas we naturally run with a forefoot strike – as illustrated by the Tarahumara running people of Mexico and other runners from non-Westernised cultures. Try it; the impact on the uncushioned heel makes it too painful on the foot and the shock shoots up the lower leg, jarring the knee.

 

McDougall is critical of the corporate giants pushing the latest state-of-the-art, mega-cushioned, super-corrective miracle running shoes on unwitting consumers (I’m guilty as charged). He points out that the best tried-and-tested models are often pulled from shelves to encourage runners to stockpile favourite shoes, and that there’s always some brand new “technology” to entice buyers with its promise of easier runs and faster times. Not to mention any names, Nike (again, guilty as charged), but the big names definitely have a vested interest in convincing us success comes from the purse.

 

McDougall describes how a top running coach at some American university experimented on his runners. He bought one group top-of-the-range, big bucks, high-tech running shoes and another group cheap, minimalist trainers. He found that the expensive shoes caused the runners to tire quicker and suffer more injuries than the cheapie ones. Similarly, another running  expert advocated the use of worn out, battered old shoes that  had lost much of their spring over brand new trainers. Hmmm.

 

Born to Run highlights the lack of injuries suffered by native runners with minimal or no footwear. It suggests that joint problems associated with repetitive pavement-pounding are more likely to be caused by the poor technique and unnatural gait which result from the over-compensation and over-protection of modern trainers. Constant support, particularly under the arch of the foot, weakens the soft tissue as it’s no longer needed to do its load-bearing job.

 

Running shoes enable us to run faster and further than our bare feet would, and prevent us feeling the pain that we evolved precisely to respond to. It’s easy to run too much in trainers, particularly when beginning a training programme as I recently have. The cushioning prevents our feet telling us when enough is enough, so our joints, muscles, tendons and ligaments end up absorbing way more shock than they’re accustomed to, resulting in injury.

 

I tried running barefoot on the treadmill and was amazed at the difference. My arches ached very quickly and my feet were much more sensitive to what was underneath them; I trod really lightly and much slower than usual. It’s the sort of thing you’d have to build up really slowly (remember that our ancestors started building up shoeless foot strength and tough soles since they learnt to walk) but I imagine it’s really liberating once you get there.

 

So perhaps trainers weaken our feet and make us run wrong. Perhaps they don’t. I just wanted to write about this because I found it really interesting. All in all, I won’t be ditching my Nike Pegasus Air Zooms just yet but I do plan to invest in some of the funny-looking five-toed running shoes that act as a second skin (once I find some money) to give barefoot running a go. I’m by no means an expert in anything foot, running or anatomy-related, but the barefoot theory seems logical to my keen little brain, and I could do with saving a small fortune on my next pair of shoes.

Too Much Too Soon

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These four words sum up my life. I’ve always had a propensity to jump into things headfirst, blindfolded, at the deep end, hands tied behind my back. In 2008 I went on a bike ride, decided I loved mountain biking and (aged 13) saved up about £550 for my trusty Specialized Rockhopper. Then I spent £60 on a full face helmet. Within 6 months I rode down the steepest side of the steepest hill I could get to, resulting in an irreparably buckled wheel – a further £60.

 

I think I’ve done it again. After my last naively optimistic post, which gushed about how I’d fallen in love with running and run almost 40 miles in 5 days, I semi-rested on Friday, Saturday and Sunday. On Sunday I walked 7.5miles around the New Forest (in flip flops, of course) and noticed a sharp, twanging pain shoot occasionally through the inside of my left shin. I had noticed a slight ache on last Thursday’s 9-mile run but thought nothing of it.

 

Yesterday I went for a gentle run and noticed it hurt about half a mile in; I applied my normal “rugby attitude” and decided to “run it off”. I only intended to do 2-3miles but the pain went away and I felt great so I did 6. Fitness-wise I felt unstoppable but knew I should turn towards home when it started to hurt again at about mile 4.5; I realised I had altered my gait to compensate for the pain.

 

Google helped me self-diagnose shin splints but I’m not 100% sure it’s that. I’m quite surprised as I’m a forefoot runner – the ball of my foot hits the ground first – and from what I’ve read most runners are “heel strikers”, which places more stress on the legs as the foot doesn’t absorb the shock. Also I’ve always done a lot of sport, run roughly every 2-3 weeks, go to the gym three times weekly and play rugby most weeks, so I thought I’d be fit and strong enough to not pick up a silly injury so soon.

 

The pain is bearable at the mo and I’m desperate to run it off, but I’m terrified of making it worse and having to rest properly. I’ve bought compression socks, kinesiology tape and ordered insoles (instead of paying uni fees) and I’m weirdly excited to try them out.

 

I’m concerned for the sake of my ultramarathon training, rugby-playing and general hyperactivity, so if anyone would like to offer help, advice or shin splint-related services please get in touch, Facebook has proved invaluable already. Just one proviso – if you’re going to tell me to rest, do it as last-resort-advice and please break it to me gently. And mention the words “stress fracture” at your own peril. #prayfornay