Finished with February

I would like to give a narrative of how I overcame the plantar fasciitis, that my running became easier in February and that- as I write this blog- I am relishing the prospect of getting stuck into some hard training. Unfortunately for me things have not worked out that way. Life has a habit of showing the sometimes vast that lies between how you want something to and how it actually turns out, whilst in the process providing an incredibly humbling experience. Many positive catchphrases refer to these moments as passing storms or learning experiences, which they can be; however it certainly feels like I am in the middle of it and it is starting to become ever harder to see how things will play out. What I do know in this present moment is that I am going to have to take a step back in my running and focus on healing myself before I can stuck into serious training and racing. This in turn has led to the hard but relatively straightforward decision to not run the London Marathon 2020.

Inconsolable

2020 has not got off to the best start for me. In some ways I feel that my running has been stopped even before it has begun this year, so in all honesty there isn’t really much to report on for my running in January 2020. If I had one sentence to summarise my running in January, it would be one damn thing after another.

After Valencia, and reflecting on the year I had in 2019, I felt energised and ready to take on 2020. I didn’t really have the same problems that I did after London 2019. My hamstrings seemed to be fine and it was only my right ankle that seemed to be stiff/ sore. Unfortunately it was that ankle, or rather the sole of my foot, that was to become the problem for me in January. When I started returning to training in late December 2019, the sole of my foot started to become increasingly painful. Of course I did the smart thing and ignored it, thinking that I could just keep on running. Luckily for my sake I had pre-arranged a physio appointment, and casually mentioned the pain in the sole of my foot. With one swift and precise pressure point of the physio’s thumb just above my heel, I nervously enquired as to what the severe jolt of pain was; his reply was soul destroying (see what I did there?): I had plantar fasciitis. The best way to describe this problem, I wouldn’t technically call it an injury, is insidious. It lurks in the shadows waiting for you to think that you are on the mend, until you think you can quickly run for the train and then you are unpleasantly reminded that there is no way you are running for a while.

This has meant for most of January I have been cross-training, which is incredibly boring. I just can’t find myself being able to mentally make the switch from ticking over the miles on a treadmill to sitting on a bike. It gave me a new respect and a certain sense of envy to triathletes, even making me consider how I could get into triathlon, that someone could consider swimming in a pool or being on a bike for that long. Though they would probably say the same about me running on a treadmill. What the cross-training did allow me was time to think of as many puns on my new found problem: I have been soul searching, save our souls, I think I might have put my foot in it, etc. I should probably keep the jokes to myself. I managed to keep the consistency going with my cross training, though I think I definitely need to buy cycling shorts if I have to do anymore cycling sessions over an hour. I even grew to like cycling and rowing. I began to start gingerly running again with a good 12 – 14 week window to prepare for the Virgin London Marathon 2020.

My hopes for this comeback were dashed as I then succumbed to a chest infection, which wiped out that cushioned training window for London. Speaking with my coach, he still seems to think that I could prepare for London and that we can reassess at the end of February. I am secretly hoping that I have some fitness that has carried over from Valencia, though at this stage I don’t want to get my hopes up. During the Summer of 2019 I saw this article from the Trail Runner Magazine called: Dream Big and Go For It. I had saved it on my phone for this very moment that I am going through now.  Whilst I love running, I am slowly coming to realise that when you are passionate about something you have to take the rough with the smooth. There will be moments when things don’t seem to be going your way and you can’t see a way out, that’s what happens when you care about something. David Roche- the article’s author- talks about how it’s in our deepest, darkest moments that we learn about ourselves; far away from the motivational quotes we see on the marketing of the big sports brands and Instagram feeds. It’s in those moments that we can build and grow. I hope I can treat my foot in this way and give London a pretty good shot, isn’t it worth taking the risk and seeing what happens?

In the Mouth of the Wolf

I have probably hesitated about writing this post for too long, as it was not only a recap of how I did at the Valencia marathon but also of the year of running for me in 2019. To say that it has been an eventful year for my running is an understatement. A cursory glance at the improvement in my times at various distances would confirm that. Along the way I have also learnt a lot about my strengths and weaknesses. More importantly, when things have got really tough, I have remembered why I like running and what it means to me.

The importance of running came almost as a revelation to me as I was listening to the Marathon Training Academy podcast, a show I think it would be fair to say that is predominantly aimed at people new to running. In this particular podcast the hosts were providing helpful ways for people to increase the consistency and frequency of their running, especially after achieving a big goal race; stating that besides focussing on the process of going out on a regular basis to run, it was also about understanding that races and times are just one part of what makes someone a runner. It occurred to me that I had never looked at my running in that way, and even though I had some of my greatest successes in 2019, I still had a lot to learn about why I ran as well as what motivated me deep down to continue to run. Nowhere did this become more apparent than when I was injured in 2019. Hence why this final entry for 2019 is not just about Valencia, but a review of my running as a whole and how in many ways Valencia was a culmination of the many ups and downs of running for me in 2019.

Leaping into the Unknown

The beach in Norfolk- besides me, my wife and my friends- is empty. The white foam topping the cresting waves and smothering the beach line, is the only thing that separates the steel blue sea from the grey sky stretching out to the horizon.

I walk along near my friends, with my wife further back and feel curiously detached. I think to myself is this what it feels like to be relaxed, or maybe I am just alone? The roaring of the waves and the whistling of the wind should make it hard to think; but in a strange way it is almost seems like white noise, slowing down my thoughts and giving me time to be present. Sort of like listening to one of those sea shells that you can hear the echo of the sea in.

Eat and Run: My Unlikely Journey to Ultramarathon Greatness by Scott Jurek and Steve Friedman

A personal and revealing account of one of the greatest runners within ultramarathons. Jurek manages to blend his phenomenal running with a good argument to at least try to experiment with eating a vegan diet, which is made even more compelling by the fact that he advocated veganism before it became a part of today’s mainstream discourse on diet. Ultimately Jurek’s account goes beyond what it takes to succeed at the highest levels of ultra-running, and provides us with an insight into the man who came to dominate the sport in the 1990s and 2000s.

With the current running boom that we are experiencing it can be hard to find a reason to buy another book about another accomplished runner. How many times can one person read the same template of: I set the goal to win this major event, trial and tribulation ensues and finally victory occurs? Furthermore this notion to write running memoirs has spread to the everyday runners of our time, so that we can recognise the story of ourselves within them, finding a common suffering with the author we are reading. In many, but not all of these accounts, we find very little in the way of who these people actually are; in that we don’t know about what molded them or the uncomfortable parts of their running. This is what is so refreshing about Jurek’s book, we get to learn about the man behind the runner and how that has shaped him. This includes the uncomfortable moments of his personal life as well as his running.

Why the London Marathon can’t win and an annoying tick

I’m standing in one of the start pens of the Great Eastern Run 2019 (also known as the Peterbough Half Marathon); it’s cold, windy and everyone has been standing around for 45 minutes. We were meant to start at 10:30am, time is ticking away and we have only been drip fed information by the race organiser. The tannoy announcer asks for everyone’s attention and says that the race has been cancelled, due to a recommendation by the police. It is my first time at this race and it is not a great introduction, as runners go off in all directions; some go to get changed and others to do their 13 miles at whatever the cost. It turns out that the reason for the cancellation was because of a man acting suspiciously at mile 11, though the exact reason for why the police decided it was a threat will remain a mystery. From my personal perspective the race organisers could have been more adaptable to how they dealt with this problem. That said in this day and age of social media witch-hunts being conducted on a regular basis, it would have only taken one thing to go wrong and then the race organisers would have been crucified for not exercising caution. So after my initial frustration I can see why the race was cancelled.

Smile and say PAIN!

I feel like I want to throw up, as I am bent double and retching in the finishing funnel of the Middlesex 10k. The tight knotting in my stomach combined with the lack of air, makes me feel dizzy as I try to make my way down the funnel. Strewn around me are other exhausted runners, who I am guessing didn’t feel the need to be as sick as me. I always knew that September was going to be hard month of racing, and once I had understood the full implications of my torn hamstring; it was going to be a different sort of challenge. Whilst the way races went and the results haven’t gone how I would have planned or liked, I am still glad that I attempted this month of racing. If only for completing on the challenges that I set myself post-London Marathon, as well as the mental battles that I have found myself in.

Someone I ran with once said: “the distance of the race is not important, it’s how hard you choose to run it”. At the beginning of September I don’t necessarily know if I would have agreed with that statement. I may have cited the Buddhist monks who run to achieve enlightenment or Sri Chinmoy’s now (in)famous 3,100 mile race round a small square piece of land in New York for 60 days. Whilst I doubt that I will do anything as amazing or extreme as the examples shown above, I have come to learn the challenge of pushing myself at shorter distances than a half marathon. In some ways bringing more of a challenge for me than running a marathon. In short, and to potentially save you from having to read the rest of this post, racing shorter distances- when not fully fit- has tested me in more ways than I could imagine, but specifically and most acutely in my mental game.