Wednesday, October 19, 2005
On turning 35
Birthday's tend to creep up on you at this age - work deadlines and fitting in training are far greater priorities for me at the moment, but the big 35 arrived today, which should give me some license to ramble. I have never been one to worry about getting one year older - and tend to roll my eyes at those that make a fuss over it. However, going through the ANSW club championship results from the weekend, I was a little intimidated by the results - present form would have me finishing further down most lists than I would like. Then I noticed a section at the bottom call "OVER 35's". Suddenly my times were competitive (and then some), so now I say "35 - bring it on!". As Lisa says:
Skinner: And Lisa, you have a choice. You may continue to be challenged in third grade, or you may return to second grade and be merely a big fish in a small pond...
Lisa: Big fish! Big Fish!
Training has been challenging for the last week. The sore throat I was feeling during last Tuesday's track session turned into a fully blow cold, knocking 4 days out of my schedule. Probably could have toughed my way through it, but Monday's track session indicated that taking a few days off was probably the smarter course of action. Spent the weekend in the Hunter Valley, eating and drinking - our first weekend away from Louis thanks to Nona.
Saturday afternoon I put together a training schedule for the next 2 months, incorporating a second supplemental training session each day for weights, stretching, plyometrics, drills, etc. On Saturday it was an inspiring document (if a little hard to read), but by Sunday it had become a bit of a millstone around my neck, and I began to be overwhelmed by the goal I had set myself. I now had to find an additional hour a day, with none of the existing demands on my time going away, and I found myself wondering whether I was doing anything in my life well enough to justify spending so much time on something so selfish and trivial. In situations like this, I've always found a run is the best answer, and so headed out for an easy 8km to get back into things. My 4:20/km pace soon gave way to 3:56 then 3:51 then 3:37, until I realised that no amount of speeding up was going to solve my non-running problems, and so settled back into an easier pace, finishing with 9.25km in 38 minutes. No solution to the problem, but the arrival home of King Louis kick-started my mood, as he gave me the tour of the house pointing out cobwebs and spiders. His vocabulary is picking up pace, although you have to be his mum or dad to differentiate between 'star' and 'car' (and it helps to be able to see what he is pointing at). He really is the best kid a parent could want - I never thought I could love someone so much.
Monday was a mixed bag. After two days of sleeping in, the 5:30 start was a bit of a jolt to the system, and a full day till 3:30 wore me out. I had a meeting with another client at 5:30, so I had a small window to fit in my scheduled track session. After a 2km warm-up jog, I launched into my run throughs. Halfway through the first one, my right hamstring gave a twinge, and I pulled up. Belatedly, I launched into a stretching routine, but a second run through yielded similar results, and good sense told me to pack it in and head home. This should be the end of the entry, but pig-headedness kicked in, and I discovered that a slower pace wasn't hurting, so I decided an easy session of 8x800 in 2:40 would salvage the session. Two consecutive 74 second laps (2:29) showed that I was back running well. The next was 2:28 (72/76), followed by 2:28 (74/74), then 2:26 (72/74). At this point my hamstring started protesting more vocally, and I called it quits, with great regret as I felt fantastic. Two weeks ago, 72 second laps on their own were a challenge, but today the first laps were at this pace, but felt very comfortable, and I actually had to force myself to ease back on the second laps.
I did the right thing Monday night, and iced and stretched my hamstring, and felt quite good on Tuesday. But in a move that summed up a day in which everything I attempted turned into a complete fuck-up, I headed out for an 'easy' run just to loosen up. Unfortunately, these days this is something in the realm of 3:55/km, and although I felt very comfortable with the pace, about 1km in my leg began to protest. However, because I felt so easy with the pace, I persevered, and it was only 3.5kms into the run that I finally heeded my body's feedback, which unforunately meant I was 3.5kms from home. Technically 6.5km in 27 minutes, but in reality a stupid display of self-destructive behaviour. Spent the rest of the afternoon sitting on 5kg pack of ice, and cursing my stupidity. Still, were this to have been my worst judgement call of the afternoon I would have been much happier. Headed home in a despondant state, as injuries tend to bring out in me. Not a good end to my days as a non-veteran runner.
Awoke this morning and decided to put things right, so grabbed an early physio appointment, which although running into nearly 2 hours, delivered a very positive verdict - a minor grade 1 tear affecting only a few threads - in fact the physio wasn't able to elicit a painful response despite vigourous poking and strecthing. So he plugged me into the machine that goes 'ping' and the most expensive machine in the hospital. Saturday's track debut is out the window, and the fallback plan of the SAN fun run on Sunday is 'under negotiation' at the next physio appointment (the race is not a priority, but I am keen to support a local races to encourage their survival and proliferation). The physio believes I will be back running on the weekend, and back in speed training next week, so it's probably best to learn the strecthing/warm-up lesson at this point in the season with no real loss. Enjoyed the rest of my birthday, with a yum-cha lunch with Amelia and Louis (who confines himself to prawn chips), and the realisation that things of real substance don't disappear overnight.
Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home
<< Home
