Last Tuesday marked a significant step on my way to next years London Marathon - the physio said I could start running again!
It's been more than three months since my last run (a now incomprehensible 20-miler if I remember rightly...) and I'm now allowed to get going again after weeks of physio, wonderfully named 'knee classes', and seemingly endless stretching.
A month ago, in an effort to stop the complete loss of any fitness I'd built up in training, I got a bike and now cycle a 22 mile round trip to work during the week, with some more relaxing - and usually condsiderably muddier - excursions on the weekend.
This has the added bonus of actually helping strengthen my knees to both aid recovery, and prevent me doing it to myself again.
The other so-crucial-it-must-not-be-understated-under-any-circumstances-or-I'm-in-the-doo-doo-again point to remember is that I must build up my mileage very, very, slowly.
This is my golden rule.
When I first went to see a physio (at a walk in medical centre in Kent) he said that he was convinced the schedules that people run for things like the London Marathon are the reason so many get injured in the last stage of training.
He did tell me why he thought so, but I'd kind of zoned out by then as it followed the bit where he said "you won't be running the marathon you've spent months and months, and hundreds of miles training for."*
So, I now have the best part of nine months to get up to 26.2 miles.
First step will be a test run on a night as yet to be decided this week, where I will attempt to run the pathetic distance of...
drum roll please...
A mile.
Seriously.
That's what I've been told to start with to see how it goes. If I manage that unscathed, I can then try a whole two miles.
Insanity! Surely the molecules of my body will vapourise at such a staggering effort!
If I master that collossal distance, I can try three. But shouldn't go up after that until I've got that comfortably under my belt a few times.
At the moment, in my head, that'll be easy as falling off a dog - I cycle more than 100 miles a week so should have some of my level of fitness.
But, deep down, I suspect that might not be the case.
Anyway, tune in later this week to find out how I get on!
* I may be paraphrasing.
Virgin London Marathon: Less than 300 days to go!
So, as I'm sure you're all aware, last Monday was the landmark '300 days until the London Marathon' - is everyone ready?
No?
Oh dear...
I appreciate I'm in something of a minority knowing I'll be running next year already - the joys of knee injury - when the ballot isn't for a few more months. But, given I'm still not running at the mo, it is tricky to keep focussed so I'm clasping at whatever landmarks I can!
Yeah, counting down the days in hundreds rather than the panic of realising it is "only four weeks" I've had for the last couple of years is somewhat lame, but in theory it'll help me get some miles under my belt once my knees up to it.
I've had my last session in the weird knee classes, and have one more consultation to check it's ok next week.
Before then I need to get some short runs (couple of miles) under my belt to see how the knee copes.
Then, if everythings ok, it's time to get the trainers on and see what damage not running for three months has done to my already-not-exactly-brilliant running ability!
Hopefully the cycling has helped keep the overall fitness up, so it won't be too much of a shock to the system to get out there again.
Though, after two winters of training for an April marathon, it will be weird running in the light!
+++ Update +++
Halfords have just sent me an email apologising for a) the service and b) having to wait so long for a reply - which is nice.
Not sure if this is down to this post, my tweet on it or the fact they've genuinely only just got round to dealing with it.
No?
Oh dear...
I appreciate I'm in something of a minority knowing I'll be running next year already - the joys of knee injury - when the ballot isn't for a few more months. But, given I'm still not running at the mo, it is tricky to keep focussed so I'm clasping at whatever landmarks I can!
Yeah, counting down the days in hundreds rather than the panic of realising it is "only four weeks" I've had for the last couple of years is somewhat lame, but in theory it'll help me get some miles under my belt once my knees up to it.
I've had my last session in the weird knee classes, and have one more consultation to check it's ok next week.
Before then I need to get some short runs (couple of miles) under my belt to see how the knee copes.
Then, if everythings ok, it's time to get the trainers on and see what damage not running for three months has done to my already-not-exactly-brilliant running ability!
Hopefully the cycling has helped keep the overall fitness up, so it won't be too much of a shock to the system to get out there again.
Though, after two winters of training for an April marathon, it will be weird running in the light!
+++ Update +++
Halfords have just sent me an email apologising for a) the service and b) having to wait so long for a reply - which is nice.
Not sure if this is down to this post, my tweet on it or the fact they've genuinely only just got round to dealing with it.
Halfords Bikes - because life is over-rated
It's now been three weeks of cycling the 22-mile round trip to and from work as a way of keeping the fitness up whilst my knee recovers, ready for my third attempt at trying to run the London Marathon next April.
It's been a mixed experience as there have been several, shall we say 'issues', with the bike.
As I'd not ridden in a long time, and didn't know whether I'd just get bored and give up on the whole thing, I wasn't prepared to fork out more than £200. I just wanted something cheap, but good enough to get me from home to work, with the potential for some light off-roading on weekends.
I am painfully aware of my limited knowledge of bikes and so I thought I'd play it safe by heading to one of the biggest bike-sellers in the country, Halfords.
The logic I used was that:
It was one of the worst shopping experiences of my life.
Having taken an early lunch to get there well before 12 so I could collect it by the end of the day, it was frustrating that it took me 20 minutes of proactive hunting to actually find someone in the bike section who I could spend my £180 with. "Recession? F**k that, we don't need your money!"
Once I'd parted with my money I was assured it would be ready to collect by 4pm that day.
As I had a work commitment that went on longer than expected I couldn't actually get there until 5pm, and when I did I was then told they'd made the wrong bike ("Are you sure you're not a foot taller than you look?") so would have to wait 20 minutes while they put it together.
Half an hour passed, and it still wasn't ready. Another 20 minutes and the bike was at last built. So, having added a lock and helmet to my purchase, I was ready to go.
Unfortunately, I then had to deal with the security guard who insisted on making sure that, despite having been in the store for around an hour and a half all day, I'd actually bought the bike I had just been given, and was now pushing out of the store.
For some reason it took him a couple of minutes to establish that the bike on the receipt was the same model as that I was pushing (I would have thought the big sticker on the frame with the model number on would have been a good clue, but apparently not).
Once it was established I wasn't the least subtle bike thief in the world, he then noticed I had two other items on the receipt and wanted to check them - despite having the helmet on my head, and the lock in my bag!
I asked why, and he just grunted inaubdibly at me.
Another couple of minutes passed while he established beyond all reasonable doubt that the helmet was the same make as the one on my head ("look at the f***ing name on the front you t**t" I inwardly screamed), and the lock was the right length as the one on the receipt (I wouldn't have been surprised if he'd got a tape measure) before I was at last free.
I imagine it must be dull being a security guard at Halfords, but still, there's no reason to act like a tit just because you can.
Relieved to have got that over with, I then I tentatively got on the bike and began pedalling off.
Now, I hadn't been ridden a bike in some time, but I'm damn sure that the first time you turn the handlebars, the front wheel shouldn't keept pointing straight ahead.
Braking heavily to avoid ploughing into traffic as I left the car park (which is harder when your arms are pointing to the side), I soon discovered that the bolts attaching the handlebars weren't just a bit loose, they'd never been tightened.
Eager to get home at some point that night, and reluctant to spend any more time in that store, I tightened them as best I could by hand, and set off again.
This time they turned, which was a relief.
What was now annoying me was my inability to use all three of the cogs on the chainring, or three on the freewheel. The combined effect of this meant my supposedly 21 speed bike only had 8 gears to choose from, and those which I could were for what I can only assume is an attempt to cycle up Kilamanjaro.
This left my pedalling like mad, and seemingly going nowhere - always a good look!
Also, the front wheel was making a scraping noise where the brake disk was touching the rim. After investigating this at home, it turns out this was simply down to the front wheel being not being attached properly.
Always good to find out that kind of information after cycling 11 miles through heavy Friday night traffic.
Most of these problems are now rectified thanks to the interweb and trial and error in my garage, but it does make me question whether they use trained chimps to put these together, and what exactly the safety check was looking for.
"Do we check the handlebars and wheels are attached?"
"Nah, we're keeping an eye out for sharks hiding under the seat. Oh, and make sure poison darts don't fly out of the brakes!"
I had hoped that this was an isolated bad experience, but I soon realised it wasn't when I accompanied a friend to buy their first bike in some time the next day from Halfords' Brooklands store.
To cut another long story short, this one came with an 'out-of true' (ie, not round) front wheel (hadn't even been on the road when we realised that the scraping noise from the brakes wasn't just them "breaking in") and the accessory pack (pump, bottle, lock, tool thing, etc) was made of cheap crap plastic - the pump holder broke by bending past it to get a drink, and lock holder broke with the little jiggle you do to make sure the lock was secure.
Frankly, I think we could have paid someone to beat us up in the street for the £340 we spent there and feel less like we'd been mugged.
I have been in touch with Halfords to express my 'disappointment' (had to wait a week so I could be sure I wou'dn't swear!), but despite the promise to get back to me within five days, they've now had 11 and I've not heard a thing.
Lessons from this?
For the love of god, don't get a bike from Halfords unless death by poor craftsmanship is something that appeals to you.
If you do get one and don't want to die, you need to learn how to get it roadworthy yourself. This is pretty fun actually as usually involves getting oil and grease on you and feels quite manly.
It's been a mixed experience as there have been several, shall we say 'issues', with the bike.
As I'd not ridden in a long time, and didn't know whether I'd just get bored and give up on the whole thing, I wasn't prepared to fork out more than £200. I just wanted something cheap, but good enough to get me from home to work, with the potential for some light off-roading on weekends.
I am painfully aware of my limited knowledge of bikes and so I thought I'd play it safe by heading to one of the biggest bike-sellers in the country, Halfords.
The logic I used was that:
- a big chain will have more choice of cheaper stuff for me to try
- they'll give it a safety check etc first
- its the only place that sells bike close to work
It was one of the worst shopping experiences of my life.
Having taken an early lunch to get there well before 12 so I could collect it by the end of the day, it was frustrating that it took me 20 minutes of proactive hunting to actually find someone in the bike section who I could spend my £180 with. "Recession? F**k that, we don't need your money!"
Once I'd parted with my money I was assured it would be ready to collect by 4pm that day.
As I had a work commitment that went on longer than expected I couldn't actually get there until 5pm, and when I did I was then told they'd made the wrong bike ("Are you sure you're not a foot taller than you look?") so would have to wait 20 minutes while they put it together.
Half an hour passed, and it still wasn't ready. Another 20 minutes and the bike was at last built. So, having added a lock and helmet to my purchase, I was ready to go.
Unfortunately, I then had to deal with the security guard who insisted on making sure that, despite having been in the store for around an hour and a half all day, I'd actually bought the bike I had just been given, and was now pushing out of the store.
For some reason it took him a couple of minutes to establish that the bike on the receipt was the same model as that I was pushing (I would have thought the big sticker on the frame with the model number on would have been a good clue, but apparently not).
Once it was established I wasn't the least subtle bike thief in the world, he then noticed I had two other items on the receipt and wanted to check them - despite having the helmet on my head, and the lock in my bag!
I asked why, and he just grunted inaubdibly at me.
Another couple of minutes passed while he established beyond all reasonable doubt that the helmet was the same make as the one on my head ("look at the f***ing name on the front you t**t" I inwardly screamed), and the lock was the right length as the one on the receipt (I wouldn't have been surprised if he'd got a tape measure) before I was at last free.
I imagine it must be dull being a security guard at Halfords, but still, there's no reason to act like a tit just because you can.
Relieved to have got that over with, I then I tentatively got on the bike and began pedalling off.
Now, I hadn't been ridden a bike in some time, but I'm damn sure that the first time you turn the handlebars, the front wheel shouldn't keept pointing straight ahead.
Braking heavily to avoid ploughing into traffic as I left the car park (which is harder when your arms are pointing to the side), I soon discovered that the bolts attaching the handlebars weren't just a bit loose, they'd never been tightened.
Eager to get home at some point that night, and reluctant to spend any more time in that store, I tightened them as best I could by hand, and set off again.
This time they turned, which was a relief.
What was now annoying me was my inability to use all three of the cogs on the chainring, or three on the freewheel. The combined effect of this meant my supposedly 21 speed bike only had 8 gears to choose from, and those which I could were for what I can only assume is an attempt to cycle up Kilamanjaro.
This left my pedalling like mad, and seemingly going nowhere - always a good look!
Also, the front wheel was making a scraping noise where the brake disk was touching the rim. After investigating this at home, it turns out this was simply down to the front wheel being not being attached properly.
Always good to find out that kind of information after cycling 11 miles through heavy Friday night traffic.
Most of these problems are now rectified thanks to the interweb and trial and error in my garage, but it does make me question whether they use trained chimps to put these together, and what exactly the safety check was looking for.
"Do we check the handlebars and wheels are attached?"
"Nah, we're keeping an eye out for sharks hiding under the seat. Oh, and make sure poison darts don't fly out of the brakes!"
I had hoped that this was an isolated bad experience, but I soon realised it wasn't when I accompanied a friend to buy their first bike in some time the next day from Halfords' Brooklands store.
To cut another long story short, this one came with an 'out-of true' (ie, not round) front wheel (hadn't even been on the road when we realised that the scraping noise from the brakes wasn't just them "breaking in") and the accessory pack (pump, bottle, lock, tool thing, etc) was made of cheap crap plastic - the pump holder broke by bending past it to get a drink, and lock holder broke with the little jiggle you do to make sure the lock was secure.
Frankly, I think we could have paid someone to beat us up in the street for the £340 we spent there and feel less like we'd been mugged.
I have been in touch with Halfords to express my 'disappointment' (had to wait a week so I could be sure I wou'dn't swear!), but despite the promise to get back to me within five days, they've now had 11 and I've not heard a thing.
Lessons from this?
For the love of god, don't get a bike from Halfords unless death by poor craftsmanship is something that appeals to you.
If you do get one and don't want to die, you need to learn how to get it roadworthy yourself. This is pretty fun actually as usually involves getting oil and grease on you and feels quite manly.
Two-wheels better than one... knee
Today I've completed 22 miles powered only by my legs.
Not quite a marathon, and, to, be honest, I didnt run, but hey, after two months of nothing 11 mile to, and 11 from work feels like something of achievement.
Shame I got caught in hail on way back. Still sodden!
Sent from my BlackBerry® wireless device
++++ Updated to correct my horrendous typing, which I would blame on pedi
Not quite a marathon, and, to, be honest, I didnt run, but hey, after two months of nothing 11 mile to, and 11 from work feels like something of achievement.
Shame I got caught in hail on way back. Still sodden!
Sent from my BlackBerry® wireless device
++++ Updated to correct my horrendous typing, which I would blame on pedi
Deadline day
Ever since I was little (or littler - still only 5'7") I've tended to wake up in the early hours.
I think it's from my parents getting me and my sister u, dressed and into the car by 6:45 so my dad could get to the factory where he worked, and my mom then had the car so she could get to work.
When we eventually got a video (to the younger readers, that's a recordable hard drive made out of weird plastic tape, to the Yanks, it's a VCR) I remember me and my sister being excited to get back home as my mom would have recorded TV-AM while we were out.
Not that I was an Anne Diamond fan, but it included a 5 minute episode of Popeye or something similar at about 7:20.
When I got a morning paper round, I was always at the newsagents by 6am. Often I was there before the papers had arrived.
Even at uni, I got up early – albeit nearer 8am, rather than midday like everyone else in our freshers flat.
The moral is, I'm an early riser. My alarm goes off at 5:42 (no idea when or why I got so specific) and I'm usually in work before 7:30.
So, you'd think I'd be used to the sound of my alarm in the morning.
Not today.
It had a different noise.
And it went off at 4:30.
Now you might think 'big deal, just turn it off and go back to sleep'. Sadly my brain doesn't work like that. Once I'm awake, I'm awake. It's a pain, but I've gotta live with it.
So when I hit the 'dismiss' button (no idea why it's not called 'off', but what do I know about mobile phone design?) I mentally prepared myself for an hour of trying to get back to sleep, knowing full well it wouldn't work.
After about 20 mins of trying to bury my head in a way that made it dark enough to trick myself it might be time to sleep, but not too hot that I feel like I'm in a furnace, it suddenly dawned on me to check why my phone went off so early.
Annoyingly, it had locked itself so I had to fiddle around with the touchscreen keyboard thingy whilst still not entirely conscious, but after a herculean effort (and several fat finger mistakes) I was in.
Turns out today is the deadline for the ill or injured forms to be returned for next years London marathon - how organised am I putting that on there?
And also what the hell was I thinking setting the reminder for 4:30? Was I giving myself extra time so I could nip into London to hand-deliver it?
Anyway, it was a moot point as I'd sent it almost straight after I got it a couple of weeks ago.
So now, having given up on trying to get back to sleep, I spent the rest of my pre-alarm time running through the things I want/need to do to get to the end of The Mall next April.
I'm sure my list is pretty comprehensive by now, but the problem is to do most - if not all - of the stuff on there requires my to get past the first one - sort out knee.
Only three more knee class things to go then I get the verdict from the physio then I can actually think about running and might have something to blog about other than my morning ritual!
I think it's from my parents getting me and my sister u, dressed and into the car by 6:45 so my dad could get to the factory where he worked, and my mom then had the car so she could get to work.
When we eventually got a video (to the younger readers, that's a recordable hard drive made out of weird plastic tape, to the Yanks, it's a VCR) I remember me and my sister being excited to get back home as my mom would have recorded TV-AM while we were out.
Not that I was an Anne Diamond fan, but it included a 5 minute episode of Popeye or something similar at about 7:20.
When I got a morning paper round, I was always at the newsagents by 6am. Often I was there before the papers had arrived.
Even at uni, I got up early – albeit nearer 8am, rather than midday like everyone else in our freshers flat.
The moral is, I'm an early riser. My alarm goes off at 5:42 (no idea when or why I got so specific) and I'm usually in work before 7:30.
So, you'd think I'd be used to the sound of my alarm in the morning.
Not today.
It had a different noise.
And it went off at 4:30.
Now you might think 'big deal, just turn it off and go back to sleep'. Sadly my brain doesn't work like that. Once I'm awake, I'm awake. It's a pain, but I've gotta live with it.
So when I hit the 'dismiss' button (no idea why it's not called 'off', but what do I know about mobile phone design?) I mentally prepared myself for an hour of trying to get back to sleep, knowing full well it wouldn't work.
After about 20 mins of trying to bury my head in a way that made it dark enough to trick myself it might be time to sleep, but not too hot that I feel like I'm in a furnace, it suddenly dawned on me to check why my phone went off so early.
Annoyingly, it had locked itself so I had to fiddle around with the touchscreen keyboard thingy whilst still not entirely conscious, but after a herculean effort (and several fat finger mistakes) I was in.
Turns out today is the deadline for the ill or injured forms to be returned for next years London marathon - how organised am I putting that on there?
And also what the hell was I thinking setting the reminder for 4:30? Was I giving myself extra time so I could nip into London to hand-deliver it?
Anyway, it was a moot point as I'd sent it almost straight after I got it a couple of weeks ago.
So now, having given up on trying to get back to sleep, I spent the rest of my pre-alarm time running through the things I want/need to do to get to the end of The Mall next April.
I'm sure my list is pretty comprehensive by now, but the problem is to do most - if not all - of the stuff on there requires my to get past the first one - sort out knee.
Only three more knee class things to go then I get the verdict from the physio then I can actually think about running and might have something to blog about other than my morning ritual!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
