Not running

It's hard to imagine that once upon a time, not so very long ago, the idea of not running would have had no impact on me whatsoever. I didn't know anything about, or like, running, then. Now, when I've literally imagined doing a marathon on the morning of my wedding in specially designed bridal gear (look, women have fantasies about their weddings, OK. It's normal. I mean, admittedly they often already have a partner at that time. And don't combine running with the fantasy.) I can no longer imagine not running. But this year, not for the first time, as I sit on my sofa with a bag of frozen peas, I'm imagining not running (right: the after-use of frozen peas: ham pea and mint soup). It scares me and it makes me very upset. The deepest fear came with the unexplained knee problem. But since that hasn't got worse, and has gone away more or less by itself (unless the glucosamine supplements actually work), this fundamentally most likely problem has eased into the back of my head. 

But now the calf muscle tears have made me feel old and broken, in what is surely ahead of my time. Losing training time in crucial weeks before a race that you are determined not to drop out of is a very disconcerting feeling. And even though I'd already resigned to not getting my sub 4h on this race, I was still hoping to not bag another PW. I had a lot of leeway on my Personal Worst, from the Portland marathon, which I cleared in 4h43 - but as I tell anyone who'll listen, there were mitigating circumstances there: it was really hot. Like, 29 degrees, on the 5 October. Not even the Portlandians believed it; they, like us, are more used to discussing the rain. I have joked since that having a good margin on your personal worst at least means that you'll be able to beat it in future. I'm not so sure about that.

Last week I decided I wouldn't run again until my calf had stopped niggling. I got to the point where I could go up and down stairs, but that swim on Thursday had hurt. Friday still hurt, just now and again really, not a constant pain, but when I pushed the pedals on the bike up a slope, I could feel it. I'd wanted to get in ten miles at least - I thought I might run to Park Run, and back, which would be a half marathon - in a nice gentle lope - but my leg woke me up on Saturday morning. Resting was definitely more sensible. I did some gardening, and didn't feel any exacerbation. On Sunday, I walked around town, and in the evening took my bike round to Summer's. I didn't have any pain. This was good!

On Bank Holiday Monday, in denial about the very very slight niggle, I couldn't hold back. I decided I'd run on grass, and for that reason, took the car out to the rowing lake, to avoid a couple of miles of road; and I ran up the river. I won't lie, the calf muscle started hurting immediately. It obligingly stopped every time I walked, and I thought I'd slow down, and slow down, and slow down, until I could find a pace where it didn't. I didn't find that pace, but the pain wasn't increasing. Really.

And here's where I got stupid. I was just very very happy to be running, you see. I thought, perhaps if I maintained the slow pace, and as long as it didn't hurt any more, I'd push on a bit. I ran up the river, past Ferry Meadows, and up the river, and past the rail line. I ran to a place I'd never got to before. I was on a foot path, and it was lovely, and I was happy. I ran 6 miles. Out. Brilliantly, my phone app worked for the first time - it seemingly needs for the app to be on, ie the phone not asleep, to read out comments from my beloved mates - I'd checked it for some reason, and a stream of messages made me grin, especially Jeanette and Michael arguing whether I should stop and walk or not, and Emma P telling me I was flying like a horse that wanted more polo mints or something! I did some walking, because I wanted to, not admitting that my calf was now in constant pain.

I got back as far as Ferry Meadows, and knew that I was about 3 miles away from the car. Funnily enough, when I planned to go out, I was going to run around and around the rowing lake, precisely because I was worried about my calf, and wanted to be near to my jumper if I injured it. And here I was, in the evening of a cool, damp, last day in August (British summer), lightly covered in sweat, walking. My feet were soaked, because of the grass, and already cold. My fingers were too. And my calf muscle hurt. There was no denying it: a lot.

I thought some more about my injuries, and wondered how I'd get help if I needed it - my phone was dying, and I wasn't that close to a road. I remembered the man in Thornbury driving me to Rebecca's when i got off the bus at the wrong place. I could probably find someone. I remembered fondly how my leg hadn't hurt while walking just a few hours ago. I gave it a reassuring pat, and decided that this race was going to be run. Hadn't I got over a calf injury quite rapidly? Hadn't I just proved that I could happily run (all things being equal) at a slow, ultra-pace, for some distance? What I needed to do was (1) get back to the car without getting hypothermia and (2) maintain a level of fitness without running. In a few days, I'd be able to swim again, and that is clearly good, especially if I focus on the front crawl; and if I can walk without pain, I should probably speed walk. Everywhere. In fact, given the point 1 of the plan, that might be a good idea to start now. I reasoned that having walked earlier without pain, it was likely that walking wasn't going to make the pain a lot worse, even if I could feel it. I picked up my pace, and with music in my ears, I boogied my hips and swung my arms, anything to keep some warmth. I certainly looked ridiculous, but there weren't many spectators around, it was later than I'd intended; and it worked, I got at least some core heat, even if my fingers couldn't really move.

The thing is, I reasoned, I know I can do this. I can do much more than that distance. I can train to 40 miles in less than 5 weeks, and get a respectable Ultra time. OK, I've got about 5 weeks left before this marathon, but if I can get my calf muscle better in the next fortnight, while maintaining core fitness, I can do this marathon. I know I can. And that's what's going to make the difference.