Festive Running
Yesterday Rory and I took part in the 5K Santa Dash at Elsecar, hosted by the wonderful 'It's Grim up North Running'. (Actually it was closer to 6K, but as the organisers cheekily said on their Facebook page, think of that extra half mile as a Christmas present!)
I've been out for nearly three weeks with a calf strain and it's made me miserable, anxious and rather 'Bah humbug' about the whole festive season. Whenever I'm injured, no matter how much I tell myself that I will get better and run again, I can never quite believe it. It takes away all my confidence. Running is my rock and I feel adrift whenever I don't have it in my life. It's scary when your body lets you down and particularly so when it happens suddenly, without warning. When you're out running and you feel a sudden sharp pain in your calf and then a tightening, which reduces you to a hobble within seconds, you feel very vulnerable, particularly if you're off-road in a fairly lonely area when it strikes. You don't realise how far a couple of kilometres is until you have to limp home for that distance.
So, that was what happened to me a few weeks ago and since then I'd been afraid of two things. The first was not running and the second was running. It's a crazy mindset. On the one hand you can't wait to get running again, but on the other hand you worry that if you fail again, you will feel even more deflated than if you didn't try. On my darkest days I couldn't imagine having the confidence to run. How would I be able to relax and enjoy the run with the nagging fear that my calf might 'go' again at any point? How could I ever be brave enough to push my speed? Would running ever feel as carefree again? All this was stressing me out in a big way.
I'm happy to say that a trip to a great physio helped me to feel more positive. The physio confirmed that I hadn't done anything too catastrophic to my leg. It was healing nicely and I could start building up my running gradually. I knew that I would have to forget all about speed for a while and just try to find a comfortable pace, something that enabled me to not overload the healing muscle. 5K would be my limit and if I could do that, I would be very happy indeed.
I gritted my teeth and got on the treadmill. I went slowly. At first I was aiming for a mile, then I decided to try for two. Things felt okay so I continued to three. That was step one, surviving an indoor 5K. The next challenge was to run 5K outside. Still very nervous, I went to my first parkrun in weeks, knowing that if things got too much, I could easily pull out after the first lap and go and sit in the cafe. At least there wouldn't be a long walk home involved. I was absolutely elated to get round in 27.17, which is over two minutes slower than my PB, but anything sub-30 feels like a dream come true at the moment. The conditions were brutally cold on Saturday, so I felt even more tough and pleased with myself, making my comeback in near freezing temperatures.
And so to Sunday and the Santa Dash. I had really, really been wanting to do this. Making the start line in itself felt like a massive achievement, given that a couple of weeks before I could hardly walk. I had seen so many photographs and posts on Facebook from running friends, taking part in Christmas races and I longed to be part of it. When you don't have any big Christmas parties to go to, such as an office party (the joys of self employment or non-employment) you kind of need to do something 'social' at this time of year. I'm all for a quiet Christmas with family and close friends, but it's nice to celebrate in some way with a wider community. A Christmas race gets you in the mood for the festive season.
We picked up our race numbers at the Market Hotel pub, attached to the Elsecar Heritage Centre. How lovely to have somewhere warm to wait, instead of having to stand around outside. (Memories of the Yorkshire Wildlife 5K are still fresh in my mind.) The pub was cosy. We had coffee and chatted to a few fellow runners as we waited for the start. Many people were in seasonal costumes, which added to the occasion. I kind of wished we'd done that too.
The Santa Dashes (5K and 8K) take place on the second day of the Elsecar Festival of Trail Running weekend. We had definitely got the right day weather-wise. Those running in the Saturday events would have truly appreciated how grim it can be running up north, with freezing rains and punishing winds, but on Sunday the sun was out. Yes, it was still jolly cold but in a good way. It was one of those crisp, invigorating winter days when you want to be outside, knowing you can come back to a warm fire and a hot drink.
Just after 11 a.m. we lined up at the start and off we went, over the cobbles of the Heritage Centre and out along the canal towpath. "Easy like Sunday morning", I said to myself. I wasn't going to push this too hard. It was predominantly trail, out and back, pretty flat, fairly muddy, with some icy patches. We had a couple of minor roads to cross and a flight of stairs to navigate.
I began to feel some twinges in my calf at around the 4K point. I was on my way back then, but I had realised by now that this race was closer to 6K than 5. I was really worried that my leg would tighten up again and it would become more of a Santa Hobble than a dash for me. I slowed my pace and tried to stretch the calf a bit as I ran. I told myself that if I made it to 5K, it wouldn't matter if I walked the rest of the way because I would have completed the distance I signed up for. But somehow I kept running, even though I was hot and tired and although I could feel the calf pulling with each step. Luckily, the pain didn't develop significantly. How relieved I was when I finally ran back through the Heritage Centre and over the finishing line. I was astonished when someone put a trophy in my hand and said I was the 3rd lady finisher.
This was one of the hardest races I've ever done. Just back from injury, my goal had been to get round the course without having to pull out. I hadn't even been thinking much about time. Getting a trophy as well as a medal was a lovely surprise. Admittedly, it wasn't a huge field of runners (only 51 in total) but a trophy is a trophy and I will see it as a mark of my determination and bravery that day, when I could so easily have given up, when my fears of being back at square one with my leg were very real.
I picked up a Terry's Chocolate Orange and a beer from the goodies' area. I don't think I've seen a more impressive array of post-run treats at any race before. There were lots of homemade cakes and fudges to choose from too. I met up with Ror and we went off to The Village Tea Room in Wentworth for a tasty lunch, a great little find. I was limping a bit by this stage, but once home, I iced my leg and this morning it feels okay, like it will be fine again in a few days.
Being out running again is the best Christmas present I could've wished for. When I was confined to the injury bench, I was feeling running had let me down, but it hadn't. Running is always there for me. Whatever other less pleasant stuff may be happening in my life (and believe me, right now it is), running is there to make me realise that I am not a complete loser, that I still have guts, stamina, strength of character and that I can still feel proud of myself. And I love it for that.
I've been out for nearly three weeks with a calf strain and it's made me miserable, anxious and rather 'Bah humbug' about the whole festive season. Whenever I'm injured, no matter how much I tell myself that I will get better and run again, I can never quite believe it. It takes away all my confidence. Running is my rock and I feel adrift whenever I don't have it in my life. It's scary when your body lets you down and particularly so when it happens suddenly, without warning. When you're out running and you feel a sudden sharp pain in your calf and then a tightening, which reduces you to a hobble within seconds, you feel very vulnerable, particularly if you're off-road in a fairly lonely area when it strikes. You don't realise how far a couple of kilometres is until you have to limp home for that distance.
So, that was what happened to me a few weeks ago and since then I'd been afraid of two things. The first was not running and the second was running. It's a crazy mindset. On the one hand you can't wait to get running again, but on the other hand you worry that if you fail again, you will feel even more deflated than if you didn't try. On my darkest days I couldn't imagine having the confidence to run. How would I be able to relax and enjoy the run with the nagging fear that my calf might 'go' again at any point? How could I ever be brave enough to push my speed? Would running ever feel as carefree again? All this was stressing me out in a big way.
I'm happy to say that a trip to a great physio helped me to feel more positive. The physio confirmed that I hadn't done anything too catastrophic to my leg. It was healing nicely and I could start building up my running gradually. I knew that I would have to forget all about speed for a while and just try to find a comfortable pace, something that enabled me to not overload the healing muscle. 5K would be my limit and if I could do that, I would be very happy indeed.
I gritted my teeth and got on the treadmill. I went slowly. At first I was aiming for a mile, then I decided to try for two. Things felt okay so I continued to three. That was step one, surviving an indoor 5K. The next challenge was to run 5K outside. Still very nervous, I went to my first parkrun in weeks, knowing that if things got too much, I could easily pull out after the first lap and go and sit in the cafe. At least there wouldn't be a long walk home involved. I was absolutely elated to get round in 27.17, which is over two minutes slower than my PB, but anything sub-30 feels like a dream come true at the moment. The conditions were brutally cold on Saturday, so I felt even more tough and pleased with myself, making my comeback in near freezing temperatures.
And so to Sunday and the Santa Dash. I had really, really been wanting to do this. Making the start line in itself felt like a massive achievement, given that a couple of weeks before I could hardly walk. I had seen so many photographs and posts on Facebook from running friends, taking part in Christmas races and I longed to be part of it. When you don't have any big Christmas parties to go to, such as an office party (the joys of self employment or non-employment) you kind of need to do something 'social' at this time of year. I'm all for a quiet Christmas with family and close friends, but it's nice to celebrate in some way with a wider community. A Christmas race gets you in the mood for the festive season.
We picked up our race numbers at the Market Hotel pub, attached to the Elsecar Heritage Centre. How lovely to have somewhere warm to wait, instead of having to stand around outside. (Memories of the Yorkshire Wildlife 5K are still fresh in my mind.) The pub was cosy. We had coffee and chatted to a few fellow runners as we waited for the start. Many people were in seasonal costumes, which added to the occasion. I kind of wished we'd done that too.
The Santa Dashes (5K and 8K) take place on the second day of the Elsecar Festival of Trail Running weekend. We had definitely got the right day weather-wise. Those running in the Saturday events would have truly appreciated how grim it can be running up north, with freezing rains and punishing winds, but on Sunday the sun was out. Yes, it was still jolly cold but in a good way. It was one of those crisp, invigorating winter days when you want to be outside, knowing you can come back to a warm fire and a hot drink.
Just after 11 a.m. we lined up at the start and off we went, over the cobbles of the Heritage Centre and out along the canal towpath. "Easy like Sunday morning", I said to myself. I wasn't going to push this too hard. It was predominantly trail, out and back, pretty flat, fairly muddy, with some icy patches. We had a couple of minor roads to cross and a flight of stairs to navigate.
I began to feel some twinges in my calf at around the 4K point. I was on my way back then, but I had realised by now that this race was closer to 6K than 5. I was really worried that my leg would tighten up again and it would become more of a Santa Hobble than a dash for me. I slowed my pace and tried to stretch the calf a bit as I ran. I told myself that if I made it to 5K, it wouldn't matter if I walked the rest of the way because I would have completed the distance I signed up for. But somehow I kept running, even though I was hot and tired and although I could feel the calf pulling with each step. Luckily, the pain didn't develop significantly. How relieved I was when I finally ran back through the Heritage Centre and over the finishing line. I was astonished when someone put a trophy in my hand and said I was the 3rd lady finisher.
This was one of the hardest races I've ever done. Just back from injury, my goal had been to get round the course without having to pull out. I hadn't even been thinking much about time. Getting a trophy as well as a medal was a lovely surprise. Admittedly, it wasn't a huge field of runners (only 51 in total) but a trophy is a trophy and I will see it as a mark of my determination and bravery that day, when I could so easily have given up, when my fears of being back at square one with my leg were very real.
I picked up a Terry's Chocolate Orange and a beer from the goodies' area. I don't think I've seen a more impressive array of post-run treats at any race before. There were lots of homemade cakes and fudges to choose from too. I met up with Ror and we went off to The Village Tea Room in Wentworth for a tasty lunch, a great little find. I was limping a bit by this stage, but once home, I iced my leg and this morning it feels okay, like it will be fine again in a few days.
Being out running again is the best Christmas present I could've wished for. When I was confined to the injury bench, I was feeling running had let me down, but it hadn't. Running is always there for me. Whatever other less pleasant stuff may be happening in my life (and believe me, right now it is), running is there to make me realise that I am not a complete loser, that I still have guts, stamina, strength of character and that I can still feel proud of myself. And I love it for that.
Comments
Post a Comment