The best laid plans...again

In the Big Storm a couple of weeks ago, a Big Tree fell into Newhall Burn and smashed into Newhall Bridge, thus damaging the link between our part of the Black Isle and Mount High, where I have been enjoying my trail runs.  With the bridge intact, it takes 5 minutes by car to get to the woods.  Without the bridge, the long way round takes upwards of 30 minutes, and I don't see the point in driving 30 minutes for a run that will take only a little longer than that.  (And before any bright spark says why don't you run there...because it's a loooong and steeeeep uphill trek to get there, and I can't be arsed.)

The inconveniently damaged Newhall Bridge source

So most of my runs have been on the road since the bridge came down, which is fine, but as today's blue sky and relatively milder temperature made me think longingly of off-road, I bravely sought out a different trail. Actually, it's the other end of the trail that I usually run; it's still only a 5 minute drive away, starts from the woods near Springfield and on my map, it looked like there was a forestry road leading into the woods (just like at the Mount High end).  I arrived in good spirits and set off on what was intended to be a nice, easy 4 miles.  Ha!  I laugh in the face of my optimism...

The forestry road turned out to be a narrow, muddy, wet, icy path skirting the edge of a field.  I put on my trail runner persona and tried to pretend that I didn't mind my feet sinking ankle deep in the mud, but the truth is that I did mind.  Plus, I was running into the sun and the glare from the ice and snow made it too hard to see where the rocks and even the edge of the path were, so I walked.  I crossed a raging burn on a dilapidated foot bridge, briefly cheered up into a run on the path covered with soft pine needles on the other side, then engaged in a bit of creative cursing as I tried to figure out how to climb across the very substantial tree that had fallen across the path.  Then I ran for a little way further before coming to a standstill at a long stretch of deep, muddy, icy water.  I inched my way along the side of the water by clinging to the barbed wire fence that lined that section of the path, then ran again briefly before being stopped by huge, overgrown, waist high bushes with 2-inch spikes that blocked the path.  I eased my way through them but ow ow ow ow - not nice at all.

Eventually, I ended up where I had planned - the forestry commission trails - but by that point I was so irritated and annoyed by my wet feet, aching ankle, punctured legs from those bastard bushes, and all of the walking that I contemplated running to Mount High (which was maybe 2 miles from where I was) and then making my way home on the road so that Bassman could give me a lift back to my car.  But trail runners never give up...

I ran one mile into the woods, crunching my way through the snow that was still on the ground.  I ran one mile back to the start of the muddy, icy, spiky-bush-infested path and thought again about taking the easy route to Mount High.  I asked myself what I was going to do if things were unpleasant underfoot during the Grasmere Gallop - was I going to sulk?  Was I going to want to give up and go home?  Was I going to walk because it wasn't easy?  Mmmmm, probably...but trail runners carry on in the face of insurmountable odds.  So I carried on too.

And funnily enough, the muddy, icy, spiky-bush-infested path didn't seem nearly as difficult on the way back.  I ran most of the way (except for when I clung to the barbed wire fence again) and quite enjoyed splashing through the water and mud.  I finished back at my car with a smile on my face and not sure why I had been fussing so much on the outward route.

I'd even go so far as to say that I'd use this route again but next time, I'm taking my secateurs so that I can clip back those bastard bushes.  Muddy and wet feet, I can cope with.  Legs that look like I've used them for a pin cushion, not acceptable.

The best laid plans...

At the start of the week, I had made a firm plan about routes and mileage for the coming week.  Plans???  I should have been able to hear the Running Gods scoffing.

Wednesday 21 January:  My working day ended at 12.30 which I thought gave me the perfect opportunity to do a quick three miles in the Craig Phadrig woods above Inverness.  I haven't been back that way in years, well before the new housing estates were built, so it took me ages to find the start of the path.  I crept behind and between the huge houses with their amazing views, trying to be invisible and feeling like an intruder and waiting for the police to show up and ask me what I was doing, until I figured out that the lovely path that I remembered is now a tarmacked road.  Sigh. 

The first bit of the road was snowy and slushy but runnable.  However, where the road ended and the trail began, the slush became thick, rough, broken ice.  There were brief pockets of thawed trail here and there and I also tried running along the side of the trail in the snow, but the trail eventually became a sheet of ice as far into the distance as I could see.  It took me 17 minutes to do the first mile; I don't often cut a run short, but this one I did.  Two miles in 33 minutes.  Can I count that as a negative split?

Friday 23 January:  My car had to be into Inverness for 10am to have the windscreen replaced, so my plan was to go to the gym, do five miles on the treadmill (to make up for the mile that I didn't do on Wednesday), do some weights, and sit in the sauna by which time my car would be ready. The windscreen place was running two hours behind schedule but, on the positive side, the rain which had been pelting down all morning had stopped and I'd always much rather run outside than inside...so I got a taxi to the Aquadome, which is a short walk away from the start of the canal path.

By the time that I had changed into my running gear, it had started to drizzle.  And by the time that I actually started to run, it was pissing it down.  There was a lot of ice on the path and I did some spectacular skidding as well as some squishy mincing through the mud to avoid the ice.  I was running into such a strong headwind that I felt like I was walking.  My face was frozen and I couldn't see where I was going because the wind was blowing the rain full force into my eyes.  I made it two miles, said fuck it, and headed back.  Despite having a nice hot shower and a very substantial brie & cranberry sandwich, it still took me until later that night to feel warm again.

Sunday 25 January:  Today's plan was to run eight miles in Culbin Forest, that location being a treat to myself to make up for the last two crap runs.  However, due to a slow start to my morning and then helping Bassman to make bread (making bread is a two-person task in our house:  Bassman to make the bread and me to wrangle three enthusiastic moggies so that they don't 1) walk all over the clean kitchen counter where the bread is being kneaded and pummeled 2) stick their heads into the bowl of flour and 3) run off with the butter), by the time that I could stop my cat-management duties it was too late to head out for Culbin Forest.

So it was with reluctance that I resigned myself to eight miles on the road.  My knee has been a bit stiff since overdoing it with the leg extension machine at the gym last week and I was concerned that it might not be too happy on the road.  However, it is with great relief that I can report that it was fine with only the occasional twinge.  It was another very windy day which made the mile and a half stretch by Newhall Point and the almost-mile uphill towards the end a bit of a challenge, but I still enjoyed myself. 

And frankly, that's all that matters.

On the road again

I had intended for today's run to be on the forest trails but one look outside at the sunny and sparkling day and  I knew, just knew, that the woods would be filled with irresponsible dog owners and their vicious, unleashed hounds.  And I really really couldn't bear to have yet another unpleasant encounter with either human or dog...but, while I chose not to confront that particular fear today, I did confront another one. 

I ran 7 miles on the road.  That's the furthest that I've run on the road by 3 miles since the Aviemore HM, and it felt fine.  My knee only twinged occasionally, which was clearly due to overstriding; as soon as I shortened my stride, the twinges disappeared.  There were a couple of steepish downhills on which I practiced keeping my feet under my hips and a couple of uphills, including almost 1.5 miles uphill at the very end, which I managed with much less huffing and puffing than I did when I last tried this route several months ago.  Nice to see results!

It was also nice to remind myself that road running, at least where I live, can have views that are just as lovely and just as good for my soul as those that occur off-road.  And it's dog free.  I can't ask for much more than that.

Farm lane five minutes from home

Looking across the firth to Cromarty

New year, new goals

It's the new year and therefore it's time for new resolutions, new goals, and new adventures.  However, I've been holding off on making any decisions about what these resolutions, goals, and adventures might look like because I have no idea what, if anything, my knee is going to be able to handle.  Just because it's all going well at the moment - I'm up to 6.5 miles for my long run and 13.5 miles in total for the week with no adverse effects while running and only minor stiffness and discomfort afterwards - doesn't mean that it won't all come to a screeching, ripping, tearing halt when I least expect it.  But, as Julie the Physio and Adam have both said (independently of each other, so therefore it must be true), 'You'll never know until you try.' 

So, with that ringing endorsement, I've made some decisions based on what I would like this year's theme to be.  If last year's guiding mantra was Fun Running, this year's will be Feel the Fear and Have Fun Anyway (or, It Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time).  I have realised over the last couple of years that I have a lot of running related fears - some grounded in reality, some only in my head - and I would like this year to be the year that I address at least some of them.  With that in mind, here are the races that I'll be doing in 2015:

The Glenlivet 10k:  12th April.  This is an undulating road race.  As I think I've said before, I tend to avoid hills in case I tear a calf on the way up and blow out my knee on the way down.  I'm also paranoid now about running on the road in case that makes my knee worse, and this will be the first race that I'll have done post-knee injury so I'm already apprehensive about how my knee will hold up. 

Balmoral 10k:  25th April.  Part tarmac and part trail through the grounds around Balmoral Castle.  And there apparently is a killer hill half-way.  Trails, hills, and only two weeks after the previous race...this race tackles three fears for the price of one.

Grasmere Gallop:  6 June.  A 17k trail race that, from my reading of various race reports, has lots and lots of very serious hills.  I felt nervous just reading about it and am already convinced that I will be last across the finish line.  But Cathy and Paul are doing it too, and Bassman and I will make it into a week's holiday, so even if the worst happens during the race, I'll still have fun things to look forward to.

Loch Ness Marathon:  27 September.  Because I have unfinished business with this distance (yes, London Marathon, I'm talking about you).  And because the Loch Ness Marathon was the first marathon that I ever trained for and the first of several that I did not start because of a calf tear.  And because five days after this, I will be 55 and this seems like a good way to celebrate a significant birthday as well as to celebrate having come full circle to achieve the dream that got me into more serious running in the first place.

I look at that list and, despite feeling nervous about what lies ahead, I also feel happy about my choices.  I could have done the same kind of races that I did last year, but where's the challenge in that?  It's time to push my limits a bit, and you're invited to come along with me on the journey!

It's just my imagination. Isn't it?

Because today's forecast was for torrential rain and gales, I very wisely did  my long(ish) run yesterday when there were only gales.  So I headed to the local forestry commission paths for a bit of off-road adventure. 

The first two miles were on a steady but gentle incline and I felt relaxed and strong...until I started hearing what sounded like a dog running up behind me.  The first couple of times, I stopped and quickly turned, ready to shout at errant dog owners but there were no humans or canines to be seen.  I became increasingly freaked out by this and my thoughts turned, as they do, to werewolves...after a half-mile of adrenaline fueled running (as though I could realistically outrun a werewolf but, hey, I wasn't thinking clearly), I realised that the sound was from the small bits of snow and ice that I was kicking up behind me with each step.  I'd like to say that this made me laugh, but I was just relieved that I wasn't about to have my jugular ripped out.

I turned off the main path onto a new-to-me path that would take me downhill to another main path.  It was a bit overgrown but looked passable until I got to the first rise; a muddy and water-logged concourse stretched before me but I thought that a REAL trail runner wouldn't be deterred by this so I sloshed onwards.  I passed two crows in a burnt-out tree, both of whom were commenting on how ridiculous it was that I was trying to keep my shoes clean, but as they were just taking the piss and not behaving in a supernatural (i.e. scary) manner, I ignored them and carried on.

I ended up walking probably a quarter-mile of this section because it was SO muddy and SO flooded that I had no choice but to detour into the slightly less squishy woods to get around the worst of it.  Still, I managed to run, jog, slide, and curse my way through enough mud to feel that I had accomplished something by the end of this section.  And then it was a right turn onto another main path that would take me back to an uphill section leading back to the main path to the car.  It should have been uneventful.  It really should have.

But as I was running up the hill to the main path, I began to hear something in the woods.  At first it sounded like a deer or maybe a pheasant and I didn't think much of it.  But then it sounded like it was moving along with me.  I kept peering into the trees but couldn't see anything, although you wouldn't see a werewolf until the very last minute, would you?  I didn't stop but maintained my running-on-the-flat pace, heart pounding (and not just from running uphill) and adrenaline flowing...and the noise in the woods continued to track me.  I have never been so glad in my life to see a dog walker as I was to see someone & their dogs coming towards me at the top of the path.

By the time that I passed the dog walker, she had her two spaniels on their leads which was a good thing, as they both were leaping and snarling and barking as they stared down the hill past me.  'That's odd,' said the dog walker, 'they never behave like that.'  No, not unless there are werewolves about...but I didn't say that, I just grimaced and huffity puffed my way to the top.  It's everyone for themselves in the big dark woods.

No scary things accosted me on my way back to the car and I didn't hear any more odd sounds.  That may be because I took off my neck buff when I got to the top of the hill as I had overheated (through fear, I'll have you know, and not because of lack of fitness), and maybe it was the buff rubbing against my jacket that was making the 'I'm coming to get you' noise.  Maybe.  But just in case, I think that I'll give that particular path a miss for a while. 

I'll bet that REAL trail runners don't have to deal with things like this.

Ignorance is bliss, except when it isn't...

It's now two months into the year after my Year of Fun Running, and here's what's been happening:

I ended up paying for a private MRI scan (thank you, unexpected work assignment, for funding this!) to get the definitive answer about what is wrong with my knee.  The scan confirmed that I do have a tear in the body of the medial meniscus as well as some roughness of the medial edge.  There was a lot of fluid behind my femur which the consultant thought might be from a resolving burst Baker's Cyst, but I don't particularly believe this because I never had any symptoms of a Baker's Cyst, burst or otherwise.  And, of course, I know best...Otherwise, my knee is in good shape with 'good preservation of cartilage thickness' and healthy tendons and ligaments.

Julie the Physio gave me a huge pep talk after seeing the results (as well as giving me some more exercises to promote fluid drainage and a better range of movement).  Her view is 'treat the knee, not the MRI,' which meant that she encouraged me to keep running as long as my knee wasn't too unhappy.  And, unless I completely misunderstood her, it's really my pain tolerance that should be the deciding factor about how much I run as opposed to some arbitrary random mileage or frequency limit.

Her final words were, 'Stop running like you have a torn meniscus!'  So that's what I've been trying to do.  And she's right, if I didn't know what the MRI showed, I wouldn't be worried at all about how my knee feels.  I've certainly run through worse pain than this before; in fact, my knee now twinges only occasionally during a run.  It's afterwards that I feel the effects and even then, it's discomfort rather than pain and generally resolves by the next day.  So, I'm up to running three times/week now with the longest run 5 miles.  And it's all going fine.

Also on the advice of Julie the Physio, I've been running off-road to give my joints a bit of a rest.  There are woods which are a five minute drive from the house but in the over ten years that I've lived here, I have never been there.  Ever.  What was I thinking????  Because running in those woods is AMAZING!  It's not just the softness underfoot, it's the lovely trees, it's the views of the distant hills, and it's realising that I really really like running uphill.  Who knew?  I've always avoided significant uphills (and downhills) on the road, partly through laziness but mainly through fear that I'd tear another calf muscle unless I stayed on the flat.  Those days are long gone, though, thanks to Chi Running and, to paraphrase Julie the Physio, 'run the legs that you have, not the ones that used to give you so much trouble.'

So, as proof of my off-road adventures, here's what I got up to on today's five mile loop:

My new trail shoes!  Very pretty, very comfy.

At the start: 1.5 miles gentle(ish) uphill, then turn right to...

A lovely half-mile downhill.

Turn right onto a flat bit for 1.5 miles, then...

Turn right again onto a lovely half-mile uphill (this is taken from the top; I did run up it!)

And then, a one-mile gentle downhill run back to the car:

And home for soup and cake.

 I still don't have any particular running goals for 2015 but I know one thing for sure:  Fun Running is still going to be part of it.

Race report: Aviemore Half Marathon

I had hoped to get in some quality runs between the 10k two weeks ago and today's HM but work, weather, and general inertia combined to see me run not one single step in the past week.  If nothing else, at least this helped the 50p-sized blood blister that I picked up during the 10k (I wore the wrong socks; I love my bamboo socks but they do not love me, which I KNOW but the turquoise socks look so nice with my pink shoes and I thought, what harm can it do, it's only 10k...) and my knee to settle down.  So, I rocked up to the start line in fine fettle and really, really looking forward to this last run in my year of Fun Running.

At the start:  a bit blurry, but still beautiful

I was pleasantly surprised to find one of my work friends and her husband in the start line queue.  They're just back from two weeks in Canada so we had lots to chat about as we waited for the race to start and we continued chatting as the queue slowly moved forward towards the start line.  In fact, we were gabbing so much that I forgot to turn on my Garmin and only realised that as I began to run.  Oh FFS.  I toyed with leaving it off completely - for this race, I wanted to focus on the experience rather than obsessing about mile splits - but I can't NOT have data...cue much faffing with the Garmin, stumbling over rocks as I faffed, and being blinded by the unexpected appearance of the sun as I faffed and stumbled.  In other words, my usual graceful race start.  But once the Garmin had found a satellite and was doing its thing, I resolved not to look at it at all and to run my own race in my own way.  And funnily enough, I wasn't even tempted to look until it was all over.

It took  me almost a half-mile to get the Garmin sorted and by that time, I had become mired in the midst of some slower runners who were using the flat, stone-free part of the path, forcing anyone who wanted to overtake them onto the cambered, rocky sides.  Which, to the detriment of my blister, I did.  I don't remember the paths being that rocky the last time that I did this HM, but I really struggled on them today.  It was hard to keep my footing and the glare of the low sun immediately in front of us made it hard to see what was happening on the ground.  I went over on both of my ankles a couple of times, one of which elicited a loud 'Whoa!' from the two people behind me.  Still, it could have been worse.  I saw a woman after the race with bruising and cuts to her face from a fall.  I felt like an idiot, but at least I wasn't injured.

Get. Out. Of. My Way.

While I'm complaining, I also don't remember the previous race being as crowded as it was today.  I seem to recall mainly running on my own a lot of the time, which was fine because some of the paths are so narrow that there's only room for one person.  Huh.  Not this time.  At one point, it felt like the Cairngorms' equivalent of being on the A9:  one slow person in front and a long queue behind them with nowhere to overtake.  Unlike the A9, everyone was being very polite, no one asked the slower person to step aside, and it didn't feel appropriate to do that from the middle of the queue so I relaxed into it and enjoyed the views through the trees of the loch below.

I also enjoyed the downhill bits.  Normally I brake and hold myself back and thud and jar my way to the bottom of a hill.  Today, though, I focused on light, quick steps and on relaxing my ankles and knees.  I tried to keep my hips over my ankles rather than sitting back which meant that it felt like I was leaning down the hill.  Initially scary but then it felt very joyful.  My knee held up just fine, and I overtook lots of folk.  Yay!

And then we were onto the road section.  I like road running and it was nice to be away from the rocks, and it felt like I picked up the pace.  I know that this race is advertised as mostly downhill, but IT ISN'T.  And I am convinced that the first 3 miles on the road consist of a slow, steady incline.  I think that I hated this section last time but today I enjoyed it.  I didn't struggle at all and, despite the blisters (by now, there was one on the other foot as well), steadily overtook people.  UNTIL...

Both lanes of the road are open during the race, and there are traffic cones along the left side to create a safe corridor for runners.  Last time, there was often room for at least two runners which allowed for overtaking.  Today, though, there were a lot of sections where there was only room for one runner and the marshalls were keeping an eagle eye out for people running outwith the cones so again, if you got stuck behind someone going slower than you, you were out of luck.  I did at one point leap from the road to the verge where there was a small path through the grass but this was too uneven for me to run on and, more importantly, that leap tweaked my knee.  Aaarrrggghhh!

By mile 8, my knee had developed a spectacular cramp that extended from mid-calf to mid-thigh.  I normally can run through things like this but it started to feel like my knee was going to give way beneath me.  After a a couple of times where it felt like it had started to buckle, I eventually had to stop twice to give it a good stretch.  The cramping carried on until about mile 10, but I womanfully ran through it and then it disappeared as quickly as it started.  Go figure.

The last three miles were great!  I felt strong, my cardio was not a problem, and NOW it was all downhill!  I overtook more people, waved at the marshalls and spectators, sang along to the songs on my iPod, dodged children on their bikes who seemed to view the runners as an obstacle course, resisted the urge to look at my Garmin, and generally felt very happy indeed.  I had a brief moment of thinking that I was going to fall when I ran across the grass to the finishing line because it was quite bumpy, but I managed to finish upright and smiling.

There isn't a visible digital timer for this race - what there is, is a man with a stop watch taking a very loose measure of when people cross the finishing line (gun time), as well as timing chips for a more accurate record.  I checked my Garmin and I crossed the line in 2:08; add in another 5ish for the very beginning of the race, and I expected to come in around 2:13ish.  Not the best time in the world, but okay for me.  However, I felt so despondent when I checked the online results and found myself with a time of 2:16ish.  Grump grump moan moan, completely forget how great I felt for most of this race and focus on numbers numbers numbers.  Such a healthy attitude...but THEN I found out that the online time is most likely the gun time which means that my chip time should be a bit faster...it really shouldn't matter, but it does.

So that's it.  I'm now at home, icing my knee and cursing the blisters, which hurt way more than my knee does, and waiting for the chip times to be posted.  I ran this race the way that I wanted, doing my best to be fully present and noticing and appreciating everything; even though I wish that I had been faster, I like that I ended my year of Fun Running by...having fun!

But now, it's time for a rest!