Thursday, 16 August 2018

My nemesis

I signed up for a gym contract a couple of years ago, it was an extraordinarily cheap deal, and the way it worked was my regular membership was less than I was paying for my twice weekly spin sessions.  For ages I thoroughly enjoyed guilt free spin, and the 'me-time' mucking around with the machines (do a set, stop and play with my phone for 10 min, do a set etc). I loved the rowing machine as I could pretend it was helping my swimming without actually doing the pesky swimming, and I could take advantage of the stationary bikes featuring exciting videos of exotic bike trails to stave off (yeah right) the boredom of a rainy day 5 hour indoor ride getting ready for Taupo.

I suddenly realised...well I've suddenly realised a number of times but each time the thought skittered away...that I hadn't been IN the gym for six months, since before Ironman in fact.  Now there have been reasons for non-attendance, but there's been no reason not to drop by and put my membership on hold except what I can only describe as some sort of weird 'hope'.  As close as I can get to it is some sort of vague idea that the minute I put the membership on hold I'd suddenly be desperate to go back.  Which probably isn't as crackpot as it sounds, I know at some point I'll get my excitement back, things will stop aching, the kids will stop coming up with creative ways to demand my urgent attention, and...yeah...the excuses will trickle to a halt and I'll throw my gym bag in the car and twice a week be itching to race into the gym with the old  'yaaay-no-one-can-get-me-here' feeling.

The other day I dropped by the gym.  I was going to deal with it.  Put. Membership. On. Hold. Stop. Dreaming. As it happens, I ran into the young owner who managed to convince me to let him spend some time to help me get back on the training-feeling-good road again.

He listened patiently to "thishurtsandthathurtsandmymusclesareweakandicantcycleandeverytimeidothatthishappenssadpatheticawwwwwww".  "Come back and let's try a few things" he says.  So reluctantly stuffed into loose fitting gym clothes I furtively slunk in through the door a few days later and he put me through my paces.  Evaluating.  Assessing.  Testing.

So after some detective work what seems to have happened is I spent a few years at a standing desk.  It improved my posture and I rarely had the old neck/back/arm problems that I'd had in previous years.   At the beginning of this year though I was tired after Ironman and I put my desk down low and sat down.  I pretty much didn't stand up again...there was always an excuse, and really, I had a very, very comfy chair.  Result...my shoulders are turning in, I slouch, my neck is in a poor position, my arms and wrists are lining up for carpal tunnel type issues, a bunch of muscles are lazy in the lower body...and because I'm not focused enough to sit properly, and at the moment too lazy to stand...I've created a whole bunch of new/old issues.

So there you have it.  I've got a lot of hard work to do, stretching, strengthening, posture, and a compromise suggestion of setting a goal of some standing and some sitting to try to sort things out.  But best of all, the current problems clearly aren't the effect of some inexorable decline into creaky athlete retirement... I've now got something to blame.  Meet my nemesis...


Wednesday, 8 August 2018

Over 50, change

I updated the blurb for this blog, it talked about me being in my 40's with a young family... and a busy career. Now I'm in my 50's and have teenagers...and a busy career.   So what's different about being in your 50's after nearly a decade of distance run/swim/cycling? 

I find it hard to actually imagine myself 10 years ago.  Did I feel any better running...probably not.  Did I get less/more injuries...who can say.  If I read what we've written here over the years it seems to be a constant progression of one injury after another with stubbornness being the key to keeping going.  And the range of glitches, injuries, lumps, bumps and bruises is quite extensive, these days I don't even remember when I get an ache if I've had that particular one before...maybe...or was it on the other side? 

I've speculated that there seems to be something in play where the pain of one injury doesn't fully go away until you've got something else to replace it, the knee that ached for three solid weeks leading you to believe you would need reconstructive surgery and NEVERRUNAGAIN suddenly isn't there because the shoulder is playing up...and...let me check...yes, had that before.  Funny that, be interesting to know how it works for other long time endurance people. 

I've also read that those who do long distance, lots of it, get some sort of abnormal response to pain, they get pain, but it has less impact.  That makes some sort of sense, I would suspect that a first time marathoner probably doesn't have more pain than one who has done plenty of the things, but perhaps feels it differently.  I write that with a kind of weird dispassion, acknowledging that marathons hurt (yes they do) but like having a baby, afterwards the pain has no meaning so quick, sign up for the next one.

And relating to the pain topic, what is it with taking some days off and EVERYTHING suddenly falls apart, the joints creak, the muscles ache, the brain says "a marathon, I can't manage 100 meters!".  I have to acknowledge that I'm aware my body is different, for example I can strength train and I seem to lose any benefits really quickly, and I'm stiff in a way I wasn't to before, my speed goes down and down and down and I also 'feel' somehow more fragile for no real good reason.   

But it's not just me changing.  The environment has changed too. A major change is how much information is out there about all sorts of things now.  Writing back at the start of this blog, it was a major effort finding out what you wanted to know, especially relating to things like being a more mature athlete, figuring out were you going to wreck yourself if you didn't listen to the naysayers, or how to fix pesky injuries without drastic intervention. Now a google search will go straight to hundreds of good articles on running being good for knees, older people being the fastest growing long distance athlete group, strength training for this injury or that, and rebuttals of the horror stories about the propensity for people to drop dead in events (rare, rare and super rare). 

Another thing that has changed is how used we have gotten to tech, we have motivation in a gadget.  My Nike band thingy with the foot pod that counted steps and I could plug it into my pc to upload and that was all it did?   The first GPS that I adored but it was kind-of a pain now that I look back.  Now the glorious Garmin will tell me what altitude I'm at, my heart rate in coloured graphs as it happens without pesky chest straps, and flags that one of the kids has sent a skype message saying where's breakfast.

And then not different...fundamentally training it still takes effort.  You can put on the specially designed technical fabric sports gear but the effort is in walking out the door when you feel like the Michelin tyre woman.  It takes effort to put one specially prescribed advanced cushioning and support shoe in front of another.  It takes effort to get through that first half hour till you feel like your body remembers how to run (yes, the first few km still LIE to you).  It takes effort to decide what aches and pains and grumbles to ignore and what to take seriously before you start enjoying yourself. 

Most especially not-different though is getting past that half hour and the fun kicks in.  Running in the hills with younger daughter, new lambs all around in the sunshine on Sunday comes to mind.  And ahhh...coming home after a satisfying effort exploring a beautiful place, food never tastes better than when earned, and best of all, being in my 50's and still able to see what is on the other side of a mountain, or explore somewhere new with the teens without even thinking about it.

Wonder what the 60's will be like?






Monday, 6 August 2018

Ironman 2018

If an antidote was needed to the debacle that was Ironman 2017, then Ironman 2018 was it. 

I went in feeling plenty of trepidation, I hadn't even done as much training as I had for last year's horrible effort, but Taupo put on lovely weather thank goodness. It redeemed itself for Ironman number 7 on my part. 

On the day, Kate did wonderfully, her brother did even better, and cut a long story short it was a perfect swim in the smooth lake (as it should be), tough cycle on that picturesque course without major wind grief (as it should be) and long hot run...um...walk up and down the road by the lake a few times culminating in that loud, ferociously lit-up crossing of the finish-line with Mr Ironman giving you what always feels like personal attention "you aaaaare and Irrrronnnnmaaaaan".  I got my medal put round my neck by Terenzo Bozzone, the winner.   An extraordinary triathlete, he'd tried and tried and tried at Taupo and not managed, until this time.  That was pretty special, his first Taupo win, and I was lucky enough to get my finisher medal from him.

Then the other day, the news that made every person who dons the lycra, hops on the dratted two wheeler and hits the road feel sick to the stomach, Mr Bozzone was hit by a truck while he was out on his bike training on an Auckland road.  He's now got wires and platinum plates where he shouldn't have them and he's describing having a "little downtime to rest, repair and recover" before making any plans.  Lurch of relief that he's alive and it seems recovering, hopefully he'll get back to achieving what he deserves again.

It makes you think though.  Well it makes some people think.  Obviously there are plenty of people on the road who never will have safety brains in gear, but there's also that one mistake in however many 1000 actions that ordinary decent people make that is at play too.   Getting felled by criminal road lunacy or a mistake, the end result is pretty much the same I guess and sadly getting on a pushbike will always be an act of bravery.  People who spend hours and hours and hours on the road training professionally are seriously brave. 

Out where I live the roads are getting busier and busier  and the tarseal condition is getting worse because of the logging trucks and I reflect that it's not going to get any easier.  These days I let out an involuntary shriek when trucks go past, I wobble in the wake of fast cars, I get the shakes when a wing mirror narrowly misses my head and I puff and pant and take twice as long to achieve half as much as other cyclists.   Personally, I'm not ready to face the new cycling season by dragging my bike out from under the pile of life jackets and discarded bits and pieces in the shed yet. I will eventually, but I wonder if my cycling will get cut short, not because I'm too old, but because being on the road on two wheels will just be too scary.  Thank goodness for running!