Bloody knees and the art of giving up

I destroyed my running tights today.

 Now, I don’t believe that there is any kind of mystical power taking an interest in my daily affairs. If they were, they’d likely be quite bored and try to change the channel every few minutes – seriously, she’s watching Netflix AGAIN, it’s been like 5 hours… (my life can be dull).

However, I am starting to feel that right now the universe really does not want me to finish this marathon.

The last two weeks I found myself at the bottom of a ‘I really can’t be bothered to run’ pit, and no matter how much I tried to climb out, I barely peaked over the top before retreating back into the hole.

I did lots of other things; drank alcohol, smoked cigarettes, ate badly, worked – pretty much a full sack of motivation sucking activities that left me hiding under covers or chatting casually over bottomless glass of beer instead of pounding pavements.

And the less I ran, the less I wanted to run – then boom, it hit me like a lighting rod – I just wanted to give up. I didn’t want to run anymore, I felt slow, and pathetic. I kept getting injured, my times almost never changed.

I still couldn’t run 5k under 30 minutes, or even think about doing 10k under an hour.

On Facebook I see my friends ran 14 miles in 2 hours 10, and I literally hobbled 12 miles in 2 hours 30.

And I know; it’s all about taking part, and not about speed, blah blah. But the thing is, no one tells you this, but once you’ve concurred the first 5k, 5 miles, and 10 miles – suddenly it gets really hard.

You get bored on long runs, and you’re hips, knees, legs hurt a lot. You’ve seen every bit of your neighborhood so many times, you could paint it in your sleep. You have to run either in the terrifying dark, or on a treadmill listening to god awful house music. The only knowledge of other people’s training seems to run like an incredible feat of best bits, while you feel like a large uncoordinated jelly trying not to fall apart.

And honestly it kind of sucks.

So today, I thought no more – I shall start again; I will re-find the love.

And I did, I managed to put on those faithful running shoes and left the house in the freezing cold. I plodded down to my normal route, and began a steady jog.

It wasn’t great, but it wasn’t terrible. I didn’t want to walk, I felt pretty ok. I wasn’t particularly fast, but I wasn’t slow either. I started to think, yeah ok, I can do this.

Sure I’ll be slow, but its not too bad. I passed 3 miles, fine ok, this is good. I’ll finish my 4 miles and then tomorrow I’ll do 7…

BAM.

FUCK.

OW.

One moment I was running, the next I was skidding dramatically along the pavement with my knees. And goddamn it, does it hurt. I have ripped through my running tights; I have two bright red knees. Also my left hand hurts like hell.

My watch tells me I fell at exactly 3.5 miles, and Jesus am I fucking pissed off.

I walk glumly up the hill home. This is it, this is the sign to make me stop.

But, I guess its not because ever so slowly I began a slight jog. And finished the 4 miles.

Now my poor knees are screaming, and goddamn Belgium doesn’t sell medicine in normal shops, so I’ll juts have to hope I don’t die of gangrene, like a peasant from the middle ages.

And in a way, this isn’t heartwarming; I don’t know how I feel. My confidence doesn’t feel particularly renewed, now I have to buy new running tights, and will need to run on a fuck ton of painkillers.

But I guess I’ll keep going, even with bloody knees, and that’s something right?

(I wouldn't scroll down if you're squeamish).

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Snow, dogs and other annoyances of running outside

When I first started to run I came across all number of things that filled my heart with pure runners’ anxiety. These days, I am much more aware of how to deal with it. So for those who want to strap on the shoes, but still fear running outside, here are my top annoyances while running (with tips on how to deal with them).

The weather

The weather is basically a runner's enemy, because truly the best running weather is no weather at all. Maybe a light breeze, a decent midrange temperature that is not too hot or too cold. If it’s a long run, a light drizzle is quite nice.

Mostly though the weather does things like rain heavily, or drop the temperatures to create lethal patches of invisible ice on the road. Or be so hot, that sweat drips endlessly from your pores and give you a form of dehydration normally only experienced the day after drinking tequila until 5am.

Annoyance rating 4/10

How to deal with it: Just get on with it. If you’re already attempting to run, which if we’re all honest at certain times can feel like torture. The added irritation of a bit of rain or snow isn’t going to matter. And running when the weather is bad, will give you an absolutely wonderful sense of smugness.

The good news: Running in the rain is actually quite pleasant in its own way, and nothing gives you the right to sit inside eating ice cream and watching Netflix all day, than running ten miles in the freezing cold.

The public

THEY ARE STARING AND JUDGING ME, I KNOW IT. Passing other people on the street can turn any new runner into a gibbering wreck. Particularly when you’re wearing unflattering running clothes (which to be frank is most running clothes) that include any sort of neon colours.

Annoyance rating: 5/10

How to deal with it: Just ignore them, in a few seconds you’ll pass them and never see them again. If you feel really bad, listen to music to block it out, but remember you have the moral high ground here, so just get on with the running.

The good news: Sorry to burst the ego bubble, but most people don’t really care that much about your neon arse bouncing up the road.

Teenagers

Now teenagers in essence often don’t mean any harm, but they have a tendency to hang around in large groups blocking pavements, laughing loudly. It is hard to discern if they are laughing at you, or just at the fact they don’t have to pay bills. Whatever it is, they are unnerving.

Annoyance rating: 6/10

How to deal with it: I sometimes make up insults in my head I would throw at them, if they ever threw one at me. I also imagine flipping them off while running. I am not mature.

The good news: Most teenagers are perfectly nice and don’t bother me, I have yet to actually need to swear at one.

Dogs

UGH, dogs are the bane of any runner’s existence. They tend to come in three variations: small and yappy, large and happy and just plain scary. The small ones run around under your feet, the large ones bound next to you incredibly chuffed to have found a new two legged running friend and the scary ones growl much too close to your ankles for comfort.

Annoyance rating: 7/10

How to deal with it: Mostly I just glare at the owners if they are around, and make sure I can quickly jump to the side if a small terrier is about to tangle itself under my knees. The scary ones, I just get the hell away from and hope to god nothing happens.

The good news: Most owners seem aware that their best friend is a nuisance to runners, and make an effort to reel them in (thank god for leads). And so far, I have yet to meet any particularly nasty dogs and have sustained no injuries (fingers crossed).

Small children

If anything could be worse than dogs, small children are definitely it. Mostly due to the fact they aren’t kept on leads, and don’t appear to respond as well to whistling. Small children have absolutely no sense they should probably move away from the large person coming towards them at speed, and often seem to totter into exactly the position you’re just about to run into. They also share the same trait as dogs, where they love to run alongside you, like a newly acquired toddler sidekick.

Annoyance rating: 9/10

How to deal with it: Try to get out of the way, and just hope they don’t kamikaze themselves under you’re feet at the last moment. Look around for parents who will hopefully pull them aside, and just assume that you may have to do a really odd matrix style swerve at the last minute, to stop from stepping on this small moving object.

Good note: I have yet to kick a kid in the face, or fall over one. I count that as a win.

People who shout RUN, FOREST, RUN

FUCK YOU, the film is officially 20 years old!

Only exception - if your name is Forest and are about to be mauled by a bear.

Annoyance rating: 11/10

How to deal with it: See above

Good note: They are probably lazy fuckers who will die of heart disease.

Notable contenders include: Leery men, geese, and cyclists.

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Photo by Trojan_Llama.

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Pain pain go away

I am running free, sailing down long streets with twinkling streetlights. This is easy, I think, a mile in and I feel so fine, so at ease, so…. OW. What the hell?

The last week has involved three hellish runs, not because of the freezing cold weather, but something much worse – my bloody legs. I have finally cracked the whole running for 8 miles and feeling physically fine thing, but it appears my legs had something fun in store for me – horrible stabbing pains if I decide to go faster than an 11 minute mile (which is not very fast).

After a mile suddenly my shins start screaming or my hips decide they’ve had enough. And its hugely frustrating, because I know I could run a good fast 3 miles and my body is telling me I can’t.

Now, I am stuck as to what to do. Most treatment seems to involve rest, but I worry that if I rest this weekend I won’t get in my 10 miler – a pretty important benchmark. However, it is more than that – I have started to enjoy, like really enjoy running.

I want to run and that weird feeling of ‘what the hell do you think you are doing’ – seems to be going further and further away, but instead my legs are giving way and I don’t know what to do about it.

I know I can run faster, but this physical barrier is getting in the way. And the worse thing is how hard is it to run through it. The pain of getting fitter can be run through, you can keep going when you’re gasping for air or fantasizing about what cold drink you will have at home.

But with leg pain, that feels like tiny elves have gone on an exploratory mining mission between your shinbones, it’s much harder to keep going.

I am sure I am not the first marathon trainer to feel the pain of shin splints, or have to limp up stairs after a run. I know its because my regular route involves hills, and my legs aren’t used to going up and down a hill at a fast speed four times a week.

I know that I should rest, but I don’t want to. I want to keep going. I want to finally get to under 30 on my 5k and not have to deal with my hips every second stride.

There has been the pain, the frustrated walking, and running full pelt away in panic when I suddenly realised I appeared to be running in the middle of nowhere and there was just one lone man sat in his car – that brought up too many visions of horror films for my liking.

But each night I put my shoes back on and pulled my way up that hill, and grimaced at my poor times, and kept running.

So to you pain I say, please just go away, just this once. Please?

(Note: since writing this, I have also caught a chesty cold meaning I can't run at all - I am having no luck)

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Valuable lesson while running: I can't run with a hangover

This weekend I discovered something incredibly important - I will not run when I am hungover. 

For someone who calls themselves the reprobate runner, you would think that training with a mild headache and a queasy feeling in my stomach, would be my forte.

And I had began to think that too. The internet had provided me with hundreds of articles saying no matter how bad the hangover I would feel so refreshed at the end, and the run would basically cure my self inflicted ailments. I thought, yes of course, I will master this. I will run off my hangovers!

Well, this is my run down of how not to run with a hangover.

Firstly on Friday night I ended up drinking a few too many Duvels (8% Belgian beer for the uninitiated) and woke on Saturday morning with that restless energy that only hazy morning drunkeness can provide.

I'll do it, I thought. I will run away the hangover - it'll be amazing, I'll return a new woman! I will become one of those people who runs at 7am after a binge on white wine, and then does an hour of yoga - and talks a lot about the power of anti-oxidants.

I have found the cure for all my ails - I thought merrily to myself as I laced up my shoes. No more painkillers and hours in bed watching Netflix for me. I stumbled into the bright light of Saturday morning.

Well I was terribly wrong. Running hungover is horrible. 

This is mainly for one quite obvious reason: running takes up a lot of energy, and your body spends a lot of time trying to deal with that - add in a liver attempting to process four strong beers, then you're heading for a painful ride.

I managed 2k before wanting to immediately lie down in the slightly damp grass, and it took nearly all of my willpower not to succumb to this urge. Not only was I trying to clear my body of beer, I had barely enough sleep, meaning every miserable step just reminded me I was veering further away from my bed. 

Finally after an extra 0.5k I gave in and walked home miserably. It's fine, I thought, it was just a blip - maybe next time. The problem was, my next attempt was the following day. 

A month or so before I had decided to take a trip back to Manchester to see some friends, one of whom I am attempting this ridiculous idea of running a marathon with. So we readily made plans to drink copious of beer, then go on a 10k run the next day - this was planned for the weekend of the first ill advised hungover run.

Nursing my Duvel hangover, I packed my running shoes into a rucksack, got on my Ryanair flight and tried not to think about putting on the shoes the next day.

So, let's put it this way - the first bit with the beer happened (English pints this time though), the second part with the running... well, that didn't even come close to taking place.

At 11am I stumbled downstairs on the Sunday morning and loudly claimed I was pretty sure that I was still drunk. We spent long lazy hours eating sausage sandwiches, drinking countless cups of tea and watching four episodes of Don't Tell the Bride.

Finally we looked out of the window to the impending darkness and gave in, agreeing that running with a hangover was a terrible idea.

So this weekend I learnt a valuable lesson - I should not schedule runs the day after the night before, and if I have a day of miles ahead of me - I am best sticking to sparkling water.

The reprobate runner might have to become a little less of a reprobate. 

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High five to my younger self

The apocalyptic Brussels canal. Photo by saigneurdeguerre.

Running is not a new activity for me. From a young age each year I would join my father in a 5 mile race – called the Greggs run.

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Running towards the light

So I became that person, I am the person who comes home after work when its pitch black outside and the temperature is barely 1 degree, and goes running.

I never thought I’d be that person who would go running in the freezing cold at night when there are radiators and Netflix, but here we are. It has happened.

Now most things don’t phase me too much when running: I secretly enjoy running in the rain. Bright insanely hot sunshine can be gruelling, but manageable. Freezing cold temperatures can be combatted by long sleeved tops and gloves.

But today I had to conquer my biggest fear: THE DARK. Now I like being female, I very much enjoy it, but sometimes it gets in the way of things. And one of those things is choosing to run at night.

Because pretty much for any female, no matter how unappealing we look in our lycra running gear, can't go running in pitch darkness for fear of scary men lurking in shadows. Its rubbish, and check out Reclaim the Night marches for info on protests around this.

So pretty much all parks are out of the question, and you have to stick to lit roads surrounded by houses. This is a damn annoyance to be perfectly honest. I am happy to wear the reflective gear, and look like a idiot in a bright yellow hat (though I have yet to succumb to wearing the only head torch I own, which is a panda’s face with two glowing eyes that flash), but running on streets doesn't quite have the same exciting - look at all these lovely things, as running round a nice park does.

So I kept putting it off, but with the pressure of 26.2 miles ahead of me, I finally went for it.

And it wasn’t too bad at all – I stuck to lit roads and found a decent 5k. I even encountered another runner, who was clearly much more worried about not being seen than I was and had no less than three separate lights flashing on him.

I’m pretty sure even his trainers lit up. It makes you wonder if people run just for the excuse of legitimately wearing trainers with flashing lights past the age of 8.

Apart from the bright trainers, he was obviously a serious runner, because when he past me, he looked at his watch in a meaningful – AM I PBing??? (personal best) way.

And the best part about running in dark? Less people to randomly mock you on the street. Now, this doesn’t happen all the time, but at least once each run you’ll get some moron who is so uncomfortable with the idea of exercise that they feel the need to openly share it with you.

However, those same idiots wouldn’t step outside if there was even the slightest chance of rain, so you get to share the path with much more accepting individuals.

So all in all – despite the problems of being a girl, I still managed to run in the dark!

Evening runs conquered.

Finally here is Wanda Sykes with the perfect solution to the problem:

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My legs hate me today

Last week I ran a 10k, and in the flurry of a runner high - I dreamily decided that it would be a brilliant idea to sign up for a marathon in April. And much like making a drunken purchase using Amazon one click, that brilliant idea suddenly felt utterly absurd as soon as the adrenalin had worn off.

A marathon? The most I have managed before is 10k, so I may not be starting from scratch, but when my race results came in for the run on that Sunday - my name seemed to be surrounded by a large amount of women in the over 40 category. Not that women over 40 are bad runners, in fact I can tell by looking at my own time (I hour 8 mins if you must know), they clearly aren't.

So like any self-indulgent runner, I decided to write a blog - mainly as a outlet for my frustrations, confusions and naval gazing.

Today my legs hurt - they really bloody hurt. They hurt in that way that it is almost hysterically funny how much they hurt, because every movement feels like someone is shredding my thigh with a steak knife. Ok, so its not that bad, but it is the unfortunate issue with running a 10k, followed by a 5k the next day.

My body isn't used to this kind of pressure, it has come rather used to sitting or lying down. I once perfected the ability to lie on my bed, while watching endless episodes of 30 rock on Netflix eating crisps, without having to lift my head at all.

So now my body is on strike, it is refusing to go on, it is picketing the fence that is my upper thighs and sneering at my feet for even trying to get me anywhere. However this shall of course not deter me. I am mildly amused by my bodies resistance, like a toddler throwing a tantrum – it will eventually pass and I shall keep going.

I am a mild reprobate – I drink beer (I live in Brussels, its basically their water), I can’t hear the words 'free food' without the urge to stuff it all in my mouth, I have spent days not leaving the house, but I am a runner.

Welcome to my blog.

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