Fitness Journey

ARE YOU TOUGH ENOUGH??

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Easter Bank Holiday Weekend brought us the latest instalment of “Are You Tough Enough” – not the SAS version (although that looks pretty challenging) – but the “Are You Tough Enough to be John Withinshaws’ girlfriend” version. Blistering heat, gruelling conditions and a true test of grit and determination.

OK, so I can be a little dramatic at times…

I’m not sure if it’s as we grow into ourselves as adults, or as we grow into ourselves as athletes (or both) but the challenges we present ourselves with are getting more and more extreme. The purpose of our trip to the Lakes over the Bank Holiday weekend was to start the arduous and lengthy task of recceing (knowledge = power, confidence and foresight) John’s biggest target to date – the Northern Traverse – 190 miles self-supported Ultra, following Wainwrights Coast to Coast from St Bees to Robin Hoods Bay, April 2020, with 5 days to complete (on foot).

Picture of a map and Wainwrights Coast to Coast book
We had discussed various options of how we were to go about this, John coming up with the idea of carrying a temporary home on our backs for a couple of days and doing a bit of wild camping. We decided (I persuaded) that as novice wild campers and carriers of really, really heavy backpacks and that one of us deals really badly with the cold, that perhaps we should ease ourselves into the dirt-bag lifestyle and do an out and back of the first leg of the journey, then move along the route in the car and do the same from point 2. We decided to leave out the first section for now (St Bees to Ennerdale – approx 14 miles) on the basis this should be relatively easy to navigate – fresh, daylight and among other people. So – park up at Ennerdale, walk from Ennerdale for as far as we could manage, put up tent for the night, wild camp and then head back the following day. Sounds straight forward enough.
Hiking items laid out ready for packing for a recce of the Northern Traverse

Of course we had to buy a tent, a rucksack for me, a tiny stove, a new coat, freeze dried expedition rations and a poo trowel before we were set to go. I researched and studied maps like my life depended on it (I take my role as 2IC very seriously), made notes, and a book of Wainwrights route that a friend had lent us became bedtime reading. Be prepared. This is a good time to practice my own navigation too. I got out all the warmest layers I could find that wouldn’t weigh me down too much – never has my packing been so minimal and organised… and then….

Cue the hottest weekend of the year so far.

Ennerdale Water in the morning sun

DAY 1

My anxiety was a little through the roof as we set off on the Friday morning – I can catastrophize better than anyone I know and if anything could go wrong on this kind of trip, I will have dreamt it up as the worst case scenario. I put my heavy rucksack on, breathed deep, pretended all was going to be OK and trundled along behind John, who was full of his usual enthusiasm and already 10 spaces in front, even though we’d only been going 5-10 minutes. We set off up Angler’s Crag (on Wainwrights advice, rather than trying to shimmy round the very dangerous shale at the bottom) and I instantly realise that I’m in a bit of trouble. I can’t breathe going up the hill, I feel slow and sluggish, but more than that – I’m in excruciating pain in my shoulders (and neck) with the rucksack. I don’t think I can walk 20 minutes, never mind 20 miles. John recognises I’m struggling and insinuates I may need to adjust the pack.

“I can’t do anything with the pack – it’s just really heavy.” I think I’m going to cry.

He finds a couple of straps at the top that I didn’t know existed, pulls them tight, which brings the top of the pack into my shoulders rather than dangling/dragging 3 inches away.

“Oh…” that’s a little better. FFS Jenkins.

The journey becomes a little easier after that, although we are picking our way through stony ground initially, so it’s not fast going, and of course it gets hotter and hotter as the day goes on. As we hit the forest path on a steady uphill, I start to become a little conscious of how much water we are (or aren’t) carrying and hope to god we find somewhere to fill up.

Black Sail YHA hut in the Lake District, Cumbria
We reached the Black Sail Hut YHA after about 3 hours or so of walking non stop in the heat. Wainwright describes it as the loneliest of all Youth Hostels in Lakeland. Not on this day. It was like heaven on a hill, and there were loads of other people who clearly felt the same. Not only could we fill up our water bottles, there is also an honesty shop where you can make your own cups of tea, coffee, etc. and buy flapjacks and crisps.

We had a rest, a cuppa and a bite to eat (crisps to get the salts back in and some delicious flapjack). This set us up in fine form for the climb up Seavy Knott, which is a very steep, stepped hill and a challenge with a heavy pack on your back (weight distribution – lean in). Steady away, take your time, rest when you have to.

Over the top we were treated to some magnificent views. The bonus of the hot weather was that we could see for miles and as John says, “your eyeballs just aren’t big enough to take it all in”. As we headed down to Honister I knew we had done the worst of the work for the day and started to relax a little bit. John bought me an ice cream at the Honister cafe – bliss.

View from the top of Seavy Knott in the Lake District

Seatoller was the next marked stop point in the notes, but there’s not an awful lot there so we headed straight to Rosthwaite, at which point we had covered about 14.5 miles, and walked for 7 hours or so. We stocked up with more water for camping and treated ourselves to a well earned pint.

Enjoying a pint of cider after a hot days walking in the Lakes

 

I have to admit it was tough to leave the pub. Feet were sore and hot and we still had a little way to go. John had earmarked a spot on the map a couple of miles away in Stonethwaite, but we had to walk past a campsite to get there – fields and fields (literally HUGE campsite) full of Bank Holiday revellers, relaxing, enjoying the sunshine, drinking beer, eating barbecues, children playing in the river…tempting.We found a lovely quiet spot, and then the next challenge – putting up the tent together – the maker and breaker of relationships. We make a pretty good team – John tells me how he would like me to help, and I do as I’m told. Saves millions of arguments.

It went up quick and easy and once happy with the tent we cooked our freeze dried expedition rations, drank a little Benedictine from the hip flask, had a baby wipe wash and settled into our sleeping bags before nightfall had even arrived.

DAY 1 – A HOT BUT TIRING SUCCESS

Time to fly without being high

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Day 1 of sobriety – again.

I had a few drinks yesterday to clear the fridge, get rid of the booze and dull the hangover. I am therefore not waking on Day 1 with quite as clear a head as I would wish. I could’ve poured the drink away, or donated it to someone – but I opted to spend my Sunday afternoon slightly pissed watching films and hardly moving from the sofa.

I have recently been longing for that smug sober Sunday feeling, waking with a fresh head and a clear mind. I am looking forward to all those feelings that come with being sober. Will I find it hard to ditch the booze this time around? I don’t know. I’m kind of looking forward to being free of it at the moment.

I’ve started reading over all my blogs I wrote during the Sober Eighty challenge last year which is quite interesting. I am excited as to what the next 3 months have to bring.

Day 1 of 112.

 

NAILED IT!! – SOBER EIGHTY (SOBRIETY) CHALLENGE – “JUST THE TONIC” – Complete

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Could you stay sober for 80 days???

3 months ago on a holiday in Northumberland, after a few weeks of contemplation and some serious insight into what alcohol was doing to me, I came up with the idea of going sober for 80 days.

When I say “what alcohol was doing to me”, there was no major situation, no collapsing in a heap, no mad night out with an alcohol induced coma, no waking up with a million regrets.. it just hit me steady – like, my casual weekend drinking is making me feel like shit about myself and doing bad things to my body and I am relying on alcohol for far too many things.

Today marks the end of that challenge and I wanted to share a few things I’ve learned and also the changes that have occurred. It’s pretty weird to sit the other side of the fence after spending years and years with an alcoholic beverage in hand.

So here we go;

1. Alcohol is ethanol. Ethanol is poison. Alcohol is therefore a toxic, poisonous substance. Like really, not being dramatic with words, this is actual scientific truth. Actual poison. Worse than that, we drink poison to have a ‘good time’. This irony is totally mind blowing to me.

2. Alcohol is the only drug you have to justify not taking, and the only drug people will try to persuade you to continue to take. No-one would dispute it if you said you were giving up cigarettes, cocaine or heroin.

3. Alcohol is one of the most addictive substances on the planet. Truth bomb.

4. If you go Sober people automatically suspect you may be an alcoholic. Grey area for me. I’ve never been physically dependent, but pyschologically?? – for sure. It’s just a sliding scale from tee total downwards and where you sit on that scale is most often not where you’d like to be. No-one wants to admit they have a problem though.

5. Most people who drink alcohol are dependent on it to some degree. And if you think you’re not, you are probably kidding yourself. See point no.4.

6. Alcohol is that cleverly packaged and marketed and such an intrinsic part of society that we have all been brainwashed to believe;
a. It is necessary to have a good time – life must be so boring sober.. right?
b. It is a reward, hard earned and deserved (who treats themselves with poison? – “mummy needs wine”)

7. We are therefore all sheeples – everyone else does it so it must be ok. I’ve spent most of my life surrounded by people who drink – a lot. I think there is an underlying reason for that.

8. In becoming sober I have found clarity of thought, I have managed to stick to a fitness program. I have more energy, more motivation and I have found my waistline again. My eyes are brighter, my skin is smoother and I genuinely feel a lot happier. I eat better and I could win competitions for sleeping.

9. There is a sober movement out there which I never knew existed. Sober parties and festivals. People enjoying themselves without drink. It is an evolution that is finding a voice, collecting supporters, and steadily growing.

10. I have missed so many things throughout life by being too pissed to be present, too wasted to appreciate the moments. I have spent lots of money, and hidden myself behind alcohol. Days wasted hungover. This makes me sad.

I have gained so much from being sober and lost nothing, apart from that which is better to lose.

So, challenge complete and I am super proud of what I’ve achieved (along with my partner in crime who’s had his own tests over the last 80 days and been awesome support).

What happens now there are no self imposed restrictions? Are we drinkers or are we non-drinkers?

For now, I’m not quite ready to give up on all I’ve attained, not willing to return to old habits. I have life goals, fitness targets, focus – and alcohol will not help me achieve any of these.

It has been a life changing experience.

Could you stay sober for 80 days???

Well done to all the others who joined in our challenge too!! 20180919_081450hangover-photo

Day 10 Sober – Just the Tonic

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So I am now on Day 10 of the Sober Eighty challenge and I thought I’d keep you up to speed with progress. I was hoping I’d have some amusing anecdotes or stories to share. Nope. Sorry. Life has been pretty normal. Nothing of interest to really report. I had a couple of pangs for alcohol over the weekend, but they soon disappeared.

I have drunk a non-alcoholic beer

I saved a bit of money.. but spent it on new shoes and clothes

I am sleeping better (sort of as it’s too hot to sleep properly)

I lost just over 1lb in weight

My eyes and skin look brighter

I feel alive and have heaps of energy. I’m getting shit done. With a clear head.

10 days sober

We haven’t encountered our first proper social experience sober yet though and I have heard stories about peer pressure from other people in the challenge group. I mean why on earth would you want to be sober? This view that somehow you’re depriving yourself and “missing out” because you’re not drinking. “It’s a bad time of year to give up, what with the football and the nice weather with everyone sat in beer gardens”..erm why do I need to drink to watch football? Is it really going to enhance the game?? And if I want to enjoy the sunshine, I may go walking, running or get my bike out. And if we really fancy some pub culture, we are more than capable of sitting in a beer garden with an alcohol free product to imbibe! But thank you for your support.

I’m currently reading a lot about alcohol and therefore understanding more completely what it does to our bodies and brains. Now I’m worried if people ask why I’m sober it’s going to be a rather preachy answer.. “because …

alcohol is an addictive toxin packaged into attractive bottles, marketed with billions of dollars/(pounds) of advertising and so deeply ingrained in
popular culture that we can no longer see it for what it really is.” Craig Beck
Yeah that. And that’s just the opening statement.
I don’t want to get preachy. But in the same breath, if someone were telling you they were giving up smoking, you wouldn’t try and force them to have a fag.
But drinking isn’t as bad for you as smoking…
Isn’t it?
Remember the days when smoking adverts were full of cool, trendy, hyp people. Then the adverts eventually got banned, then the warnings appeared on the packets, then it got banned in public places…
Not saying alcohol will be banned in public places (god forbid) but I think there’s a reason we are not regularly given all the facts and that it doesnt come with a warning label. Do you know how many people die of alcohol related disease each year?
But it’s so cool to drink…the gin culture, the prosecco ladies, the cool beer/cider ads. The ingrained belief that we need alcohol to have a good time… we’ve all been brainwashed.
And I was too. For 26 years in my own head believing I needed alcohol to be fun, to have a good time, to make me more interesting, to burst the shy bubble.
Except now I am rebelling against the norm and I think [newsflash] that I am possibly more interesting without a drink than with. And the more I read, the less I feel I want to drink again, like ever.
Now I’m starting to feel like I want to be a part of the Sober Evolution. Do you know there are people organising really cool sober events. Parties. Here, in the UK. People reportedly even have fun at them.
So how’s my challenge going? Not how I expected. I realise now my biggest hurdle has nothing to do with dependancy or addiction, it has to do with society. How other people react to my sobriety.
#sorrynotsorry
If you have issue with my abstinence it says a lot more about you than it does me.
So yes, 10 days in and I’m feeling quite preachy, a little defensive but also rock solid and very, very positive.

SOBER EIGHTY (SOBRIETY) CHALLENGE – “JUST THE TONIC”

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Could you stay sober for 80 days?

Most people [I know] will answer this question with a “NO”. I mean, why would you want to? Alcohol is part of life, right?

I wonder if it’s to do with the circles I mix in, or that British social culture seems to revolve around alcohol – beer gardens, cocktail bars, clubs and pubs? We are a nation of Sober Shamers and Alcohol Pushers (myself known to be one of them) and I know very few people who don’t drink at all.

Unless you’re pregnant (“you can still have the odd one, surely…?”) or driving… or maybe allergic or something… then why on Earth would you decide to stay sober?

You’re going to have to have a really, really, good reason. 

So, why am I going Sober for 80 days?

I was going to try and hide behind the whole fitness thing – like, I’m in serious training for an off-road marathon and I want to lose weight, so I can run faster, especially up hills. Whilst this is true, and I think that drinking alcohol does not allow me to reach my full fitness potential, and I am training for a marathon (and curious to see if sobriety makes any difference to my performance), this is not the main reason I am doing this.

Then, I thought I could say I want to abstain for a while because of mental health issues – it exacerbates my anxiety and can make me feel a bit down for a few days after a big session. This is all also true, however not the main reason.

OR, maybe I could drop the truth bomb and say that I have started to feel uncomfortable with my dependency on alcohol.

Am I an alcoholic? No.

Do I feel the need to drink more nights of the week than I don’t? Yes.

Do I struggle with moderation? Yes. I am an “all or nothing” girl. I try to be moderate. Sometimes it works, sometimes I’m drunk.

Can I go long spells without alcohol? Only if it’s dry January, everyone else is doing it, no-one goes out anyway and there is no fear of missing out. Fake sober = no problem.

Have I had a recent, horrendous experience with alcohol creating a knee jerk, “I’m never drinking again” reaction? No….

But… over the years there is an accumulation of secret drinking, pre-drinking, binge drinking, drinking left over wine from the night before whilst cooking breakfast (OK, only on very rare occasions, but still..). There is the obsession with how much I’m drinking, or not drinking, if I’m drinking too fast, can I get to the wine first before someone else finishes the bottle. Quick, fill your glass up. Don’t get too drunk tonight.. OOPS *falls over *falls asleep *falls out of love with self ~ drinks more to get through the guilt. Shopping…when can we get to the pub? Sight-seeing.. when can we get to the pub?  Where is all the alcohol at this party? Then, there’s the blackouts, doing stupid things, saying stupid things, falling over, UDI’s, arguments, deep depression, a rocking sadness. Despair. Shame.

These have all made me question my relationship with alcohol.

OK, so most of these things don’t happen on a regular basis and many of them not for a long time now. I would even go so far to say my current alcohol consumption is pretty average, and with some of the people I know, it’s actually way below par.

Just, for some reason, I’m not comfortable with it being “the norm” anymore.

Maybe, I just got sober curious.

Maybe, I just want to fly without being “high”

Maybe, I want to view the world with a little clarity for a while.

Maybe, I feel the need to rebel against the societal norms.Blog pic

Maybe, (a little bit deep this one) I want to rediscover the person I was before I started to hide behind alcohol, but the grown-up version.

At the end of the day there is a bigger question here, which is why do I feel the need to explain myself? Can I not just be sober and that be an OK thing to do?

Will my sobriety offend you? And if so, why?

Food for thought.

So, the challenge starts on Monday 2nd July – DAY ONE, which takes us to 19th September as DAY EIGHTY.

My average weekly consumption when staying in = around 6 bottles cider and 2-3 bottles of wine over the course of Thurs – Sunday.

PER WEEK that’s going to be a saving of;

£30-£40

50 UNITS (that is the part that shocked me the most – strong cider!)

and about 3,500 calories. 

I will be documenting the highs and lows of being SOBERCHIC here on the Brightside blog and will be setting up a private Facebook group – if required – for a bit of moral support, so let me know if you care to join me on my mission to becoming SOBER AF.

#soberisthenewblack #sobriety #soberchic #justthetonic #eightydayathlete #sobereightychallenge

Do you even Yoga?

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Recently I have been hearing a lot about yoga and reading a lot about yoga. Yoga is presenting itself in so many new varieties – the combo classes; beer yoga, aqua yoga, acro yoga, wine yoga, dog yoga, power yoga, pizza yoga and of course the trendy classes; aerial yoga, hot yoga..
Do you even Yoga??
I mean – it’s a growing trend – but I’m not one of those to jump on the bandwagon, “just because”.
I wish I could be like the cool kids.. erm.. perhaps not…
I like to do my research and whichever way you look at it (I would say “or do it” but I’m not sure about some of the combos..) the benefits of yoga are second to none.
“Several studies have found that yoga can help improve cardiovascular fitness, flexibility, balance, and overall quality of life — and it can even reduce stress, anxiety, and pain.” Health.harvard.edu
“More and more people and athletes are participating in yoga based therapies to both recover from and prevent injuries.. Yoga opens up the mind, body and spirit. It literally can heal your body.” Cleveryoga.com
OK, as a runner recovering from injury and a long time sufferer of bouts of depression and anxiety (now mostly managed.. but still), dealing with the bereaved on a daily basis and having a sometimes slightly stressful job..
I need to get me some yoga..
But which class? Even in our sleepy, slightly slow to catch on market town there are several yoga classes and, more importantly to me, yoga teachers to choose from.
After a few months of procrastinating and making excuses, I realised for some reason I just didn’t feel comfortable joining any of the classes. So, I downloaded a few instructions and videos on sun salutations, which I practised at home for a few days before I got bored and gave up my dreams of achieving those oh so perfect bendy “insta” yoga poses (love-hate Instagram) and that was that. Then one day I was sports massaging a client from JDW Fitness, Ellie, who I knew was a keen yogi and a little spiritual being (small in stature, big of heart) and she was telling me how she was taking herself off to India for a month to become a bendy guru (yoga teacher). Wow. I mean, what an adventure!
Ellie returned, fully teacher qualified, and immediately set up some classes to share her newfound knowledge and passion for yoga.
Now, call me a bit of a traditionalist but while doing “research” I realised that while contemporary Western yoga tends to focus on yoga as physical exercise – power yoga, hot yoga, aerial yoga – the history of yoga is actually much broader than physical poses alone. I love that it has a rich philosophical and ethical ethos. I understand how beneficial breathing exercises and meditation can be, and without sitting cross legged and chanting (totally puts me off). This is what I want from a yoga class – am I asking a lot? I don’t want to go there comparing myself to flexibilty of others, or compete to see who can get that perfect pose. My research tells me that the fundamental philosophy of yoga encourages us to be non-judgmental and compassionate to others and ourselves. I want to become attuned to my own individual self, self-aware and accepting. I want to learn new stuff and I also want to be Zen.
I also read that some yoga teachers integrate lessons on important principles, such as kindness, truthfulness, and self-discipline into their classes.
So how did I know this is what Ellie would provide in her classes and this was a good one to choose?
I didn’t. Instinct maybe suggested she would be a good fit, but I just got my backside there and gave it a try.
I love Ellie’s Vinyasa flow classes. They are everything that I was hoping for and more. Challenging, inspiring and relaxing.
I’ve only been twice and weird things happen in Yoga that I totally wasn’t prepared for – which is a whole other blog.
Needless to say, I think it’s filled a hole, something that was missing in my life. My journey with yoga may have just begun, but I know without a shadow of a doubt it’s here to stay.
You can check out Ellie’s Vinyasa Flow classes at the Town Hall in Thirsk every Tuesday night at 8pm.

I am not f#$king Eeyore

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It isn’t that I don’t like Eeyore.. I just hate the notion that everyone with mental health issues are branded with the same brush. Gloomy, depressed, morbid and a total party pooper to be around. It’s just not [indignantly] me! I am lively, very intelligent and fun. Just sometimes I struggle and feel a little numb.

Anyway, going back to poor old Eeyore, I never realised that Winnie the Pooh is just an expression of loads of different mental health issues. Winnie himself has OCD and ADHD. Piglet has general anxiety disorder. Owl has dyslexia. Tigger has ADHD. Kanga has social anxiety. Rabbit has OCDs and Eeyore is a big fat depressive. What a bunch of misfits!! Wonder how they all ended up hanging around together??

The moral of the Christopher Robin stories? For me…

We are not alone, life is not perfect, but together we are a great team. Life is full of adventures and made for great friendships.

I am quite vocal and have been a bit braver with my social media posts regarding mental health of late. I have had an overwhelming response, both publicly and privately. It seems I know a lot of beautiful people – and I’m not talking the kind who have perfect hair/make up and their eyebrows “on fleek” – although that may apply to some of them…I mean the beautiful on the inside kind of people… The best ones to know.

We are all aware that exercise can help mental health issues, however, when you’re having a tough time, things like getting to a fitness class can create massive anxiety (and become a huge monumental effort), and depression can leave us feeling a little less than motivated.
So – I thought perhaps something a little less extreme – a walk, a social gathering – get a bit of sunlight and some Vitamin D.
So I created an event.

The first weekend of January I hosted our first ever “Walk and Talk” (5k walk in the woods). This is not a counselling session but a social gathering. The aims;
1. Trying to reduce the stigma attached to mental health issues.
2. A chance to blow off some cobwebs, absorb a little Vit D, inhale some fresh country air in them lungs and get moving.

Approximately 40 people turned up despite a few issues getting up the bank due to the icy weather and we had a lovely walk.

Today was the second effort and we had about 25 of the “Suicide Squad” out in the woods – grown ups, children (and on top of that our very well behaved 4 legged friends). It’s not quite as awe inspiring as Mr Jake Tyler (Black Dog Walks) with his 3000 mile run/walk – but every little helps.. we are doing our bit, and for that I’m extremely proud.

Ever been in a car with a claustrophobic, a sufferer of adhd and a depressive? Makes for very interesting conversation 😂
#mentalhealth #itsoktosay #walkandtalk #mind

 

Feeling like a Fat Rocky

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The comeback is nigh (as I write this from the comfort of my sofa, in my cozy dressing gown, with a glass of wine).

It’s just so hard!

Injury sucks!

I don’t like to moan or whine, but this is seriously depressing me. My body feels totally broken and it’s past the point of driving me insane. I am on the low ebb of a wave that’s likely to take me directly into the black fog and I am frantically trying to find the answers to turn my metaphorical depressing ship around.

After my random ankle injury, I have now ended up with a *random shoulder injury. Ankle is getting stronger, shoulder is just really, really painful. I can’t currently do any boxing, which I find fantastic therapy (and also teach) and I feel like a fraud for not being able to join in, even to hold the pads.

[*shoulder injury happened sometime through the process of watching my man run 50 miles and/or sleeping in a tent. For details of random ankle injury info please read earlier DNFF blog].

I have a love-hate relationship with running. I love tootling about the countryside. the wind in your face, the elements against you. Hills are tough, but I love that feeling of elation when you get to the top. I love to run for fun. I hate it when I have to compete and then feel like I’m not good enough. I hate it when people I know beat me. And, don’t get me started on Road Running, “How fast can you do a 10k?”, “What are your splits”, “What’s your best half marathon time”…

I don’t know and I don’t care.

Except I do (but that’s another story).

It’s only when I HAVE TO STOP running (enforced stoppage through injury) that I realise how much I love it…. and how much I miss it…. and how much it affects my mental health. I am sad when I can’t run, but I am also sinking, to somewhere I don’t want to be.

I am lucky that things are on the up (sort of). I can manage to run now at least – a little pain in the shoulder, but it’s manageable –

BUT MY GOD IT’S HARD WORK!!

Anyone would think I’ve been out for months not weeks. Where does your fitness go in such a short space of time? How did I ever think I was going to run 50 miles when now I can’t even manage 5!! Who’s that fat Nicky that’s just re-joined running club? – you know the tall, slow, ginger one – she used to be thinner than that, and she used to be a lot faster too.

Now, I’m sure that no-one says any of those things. Or maybe at least not all of them in one sentence.. but that is entirely how I feel. Anxious about what people are thinking of me. Overthinking. So then you tell everyone (including those who don’t want to listen) that you’ve been injured, then injured again – and this is why you might be slow, and why you might be a little less lean than you were before!!

Breathe. Rationalise…

OK, so I’m not fat, just a little out of shape, and who cares how fast I’m running – APART FROM ME?

I’ve done a little research (googling) on how to remain positive during injury. Difficult when you use exercise to boost your endorphins and thus maintaining some homeostasis of mental health. I just wish my movement in the shoulder wasn’t so limited so I could do more other stuff. It’s affecting my whole body and the constant uncomfortable pain is wearing me down. Research is good though, the help is out there…

  1. Google says; I should remember I’m not a one-trick pony.

Nicky says; I’m not currently an any trick pony.

2. Google says; Don’t get stuck in the denial phase.

Nicky says; I tried to run an off-road marathon during the denial phase. Lesson learnt.

3. Google says; Face the facts, you have a new normal. Comparison is the thief of joy.

Nicky says; I will never be normal. What the F is a “new normal”? If this is normal, I want to be abnormal. I want to thieve the joy.

4. Google says; Plot your comeback. Planning and anticipation can be a real happiness booster.

Nicky says; I am Rocky F*@ck£ng Balboa. ONE MORE ROUND.. Just let me finish my wine first, get rid of my shoulder injury, and then we’re good to go.

Larry Winget says; “Nobody ever wrote down a plan to be broke, fat, lazy, or stupid. Those things are what happen when you don’t have a plan.”

Yes, Larry.

5. The PT (other half) and the Physio say; Do the Rehab, be patient, give it time.

Nicky says; It’s about time I was sensible and listened to the professionals.

“All legends start simple”.

6. Google says; Trust the process. It can be a long road to recovery.

Thank you Google.

So, seriously, I am now Fat Rocky on a come-back of epic proportions. I successfully managed a whole 4-miler tonight without too much grief from the injuries. It may be a long road but I have some goals, and it feels good to be getting steadily back in the game.

First up, DT40km route (incompleted, DNF, and bugging me). I may need some friends to drag me round but I am determined to complete it, race or no race!!

Second up, Deerstalker (RatRace, March 2018) – a performance (of sorts) is due in one of these events I do, so I’m making it this one – aiming for the top 25 women. About time I got a tiny bit competitive.

Some day, somewhere in 2018 – my first Ultra – yet to be attempted or completed and I have no idea when or which one. “All I wanna do is go the distance.”

I need focus, determination and strength of spirit, and not just for the events, but for the journey in between. There is a lot of hard work to come. It’s good to have goals (Google said). My bum may be huge but my mind is steely stubborn right now……

““Remember, the mind is your best muscle. Big arms can move rocks, but big words can move mountains.” – Rocky Balboa

Rocky

Thank you Rocky.

Nicky J

FAILED IN THE DALES

/ brightsideofthemind657 / 2 Comments

“I’m glad you stopped when you did,” the words of my Physio. That’s not “My” Physio (as that makes me sound like some kind of elite runner), but my Physio friend who comes to fix me when I’m sometimes broken.

“You did the right thing,” the words of my Personal Trainer/Strength and Conditioning Coach/better half/fellow competitor/running buddy.

Still, the words get stuck and the letters choke me.

D.

N.

F.

There should be another swearing F. in there too. D.N.F.F.

I know I did the right thing, but that doesn’t help the little empty feeling I get when I think about it, nor the jealousy of John’s medal hanging proudly in the hall. I’m not bitter, but I hate not finishing things. It makes me sad. I feel like a failure.

I set myself 3 major challenges this year; the first was a Half Iron distance triathlon (in France, no less). All complete, no issues. Woohoo! Not the quickest time but I was so chuffed with myself. Dirty, horrible, weedy swim, super bike and baking hot 30-degree run. Challenge No. 1 – ticked off the list.

Amongst the training schedule this year (which didn’t quite go to plan) one of my main aims has been to stay injury free. I figure I can cope with a little lack of training if everything is intact. So, all year I’ve been careful to listen to twinges, work on strength, do some “clever” training. Oh, so clever. Until you fall out the shower. Yes, I fell out the shower. Oh, so clever? I slipped, bashed the inner ankle and probably twisted it a bit at the same time. This was 6 days prior to the Dales Trail Series DT40, challenge No. 2 of the year – the off-road marathon. I swore a lot…

I honestly thought it was going to be OK. The bruising had gone down, no swelling and it felt fine to walk on. A little tender to touch on the bone but I’ve certainly had worse. Got up on race day full of energy and feeling fine – nervous, but fine.

3 amigos in the car

JDW Fitness crew.  The Three Amigos. Pre-race selfie

I was surprised how many familiar faces there were. One happy little set of slammers (those taking part in the Grand Slam series) with a few extras thrown in for good measure. It was a very relaxing start to the race. I took it really easy up the first hill. There seemed to be a lot of walking going on so I didn’t feel out of place joining in. In truth, that is the only part of the race I felt OK. My ankle was uncomfortable even as we got onto the first grassy downhill section towards the stream. It got progressively worse going up the next hill and I knew at that point it was going to be a long 42km. You say all sorts of things to yourself as a runner, “just keep on keeping on, it’s all in your head, stop being a baby, and you can do anything if you put your mind to it”. So I did for a while. Then the pain started. It began under the arch of the foot, then around the ankle, then on the top of the foot. It felt weak and unstable.

It’ll be fine, just keep rolling along.

By about 11km, I knew I was in trouble. The pain had spread to further up the shin and my knee had started creaking and cracking with sharp pains right underneath the knee cap.

Deep breaths, it’ll be OK, relatively flat section (interspersed with stupid rocky bits) coming up.

I caught up with, and started running with, a lovely lady who I chatted to as we trundled along for a while, which took my mind off things for a bit. A rocky section downhill caused me to slip a little and seemed to jar something in my leg.

Never mind, just keep moving along, one foot in front of the other. It’ll be right.

We got onto flat ground again and out of nowhere, the pain in my thigh.  Like a dead leg. Jesus. The whole of my left side from the bottom to the top, stiff, painful and almost impossible to run on, but still I tried (and tried again). Passed the marshals and Mountain Rescue at around 16km and stupidly felt obliged to put in some effort – some of these people know who I am – so big smiles from me. I am perfectly fine. Going a little slow but perfectly fine….walk, run, walk, walk, walk.. more walking than running and a little limping now too.

Got to the water stop at 19km, Rocky Road solves everything. Bit of sugar and I’ll be fine. Then I start wondering if I’m going to make cut offs. Is there even anyone behind me now? I must be last, never mind, just keep going.

Onto the road and into the village and I was struggling to take any running steps at all. Sh*t.

And then it happened. Three lovely lady marshals I happened to have been chatting with at the start (sorry if you read this as I don’t know all your names) drove up behind me in the car – on their way back to base as they had finished their duties – they slowed down and wound the window down, “are you OK?”

Don’t cry, don’t cry. I shook my head, “it’s my ankle”. I managed to choke the words out.

“I’ll pull over. We can strap it up!”

Great idea… can you do my whole leg?

After some subsequent comical moments, the details of which I dare not divulge, involving the poor Good Samaritan’s car, a wall and the car having to be rescued by Mountain Rescue, I admitted defeat, threw in the towel and got a good humoured lift back to base camp.

Hardest part was trying to tell the organisers I was a DNF without crying. Everyone was lovely and the atmosphere at the finish with the marshals, spectators and competitors was great. I got warm, got refuelled (I had just run a Half Marathon nearly) and waited for John and Jase to return.

It was so hard to watch everyone getting their medals for completing all 3 races… as all the doubts started popping into my head. I don’t feel so bad now; maybe I could’ve carried on. Perhaps I should’ve limped round and earned my medal? I was sat with a big lump in my throat for a while. Then I gave myself a shake and stopped wallowing in my own self-pity. Massive achievement for all who completed and I am super proud of John, and our good friend Jase (his first ever marathon).

Three Amigos at the end

Fantastic work from John & Jase

It just means I’ll have to go back next year and do them all again. Entries for next year open soon!!

2nd Challenge of the year – Dales Trail Series Grand Slam – 20km & 30km complete,

40km – D.N.F.F!!!

 

3rd Challenge of the year is now unfortunately a DNS. I have sought medical advice, and am not in a fit state to take on a 50 mile Ultra just yet (as its next weekend). That one will have to wait until next year too. I have been relegated to Cheerleader instead!

If I look after myself and follow My Physios advice, I could be up and running in 3-4 weeks. This is not so much of a disaster as it could’ve been. All is not lost. Head up, shoulders back, deep breath, and begin again.

3 amigos in the pub

Post race recovery drink

 

 

COURAGE

/ brightsideofthemind657 / 2 Comments

FINALEMENT – PART 3 – THE RUN (LA COURSE), CASTLE SERIES, THE GAUNTLET, HALF IRON

I love the way the French say “Courage”. It holds so much passion and meaning. I heard it a few times on the bike, and then on the run, loads… more than enough to bring a tear to your eye (several times when you’re an emotional dimwit like me). So what does it mean? Courage in the English sense of the word, yes, but a little more than that too.

“Bon courage” is a fairly general well-wishing expression. It can be used in many contexts where the person being spoken to is about to perform a difficult action.

There is no exact English equivalent. Often, but not always, “good luck” can be used in similar situations. The expression “bonne chance” also exists in French, but far more than in English, it carries the connotation that the person will succeed or fail due to purely external factors. In contrast, “bon courage” implies that success will be due to the person’s strength. “Bon courage” also implies some ordeal, some difficulty (though it can be the difficulty of day-to-day life). If there is a genuine ordeal in the person’s path then “bon courage” applies. [I looked it up on Google – strange, but it has absolutely no mention of how such a simple word can lift your spirits so high].TRANSITION.jpg

So, as I get off the bike and Withinshaw is cheering me on and taking photos, I am trying to smile but I realise instantly that the warm sunshine on my little cycle ride has developed into a blazing, suffocating heat. I’m not being dramatic (honestly), but it’s chuffing roasting. Chantilly is having it’s own little heat wave just as I’m about to embark on my half marathon. Lovely. Thankfully I remembered my running sun hat, I would’ve been lost without it. I hate it when you’ve got a sweaty, salty face and it all gets in your eyes – I can’t run with sunglasses on, they get steamed up and annoy me too much. So, pretty well hydrated, hat on, I set out on the run course. It’s a lovely little route – 2 loops for the Gauntlet – which takes you through the forest on the grounds, then through the triathlon car park?? (not so pretty but full of support from people in the shorter distances who’d already completed), past the racecourse, around a field, through an avenue of trees, past the most beautiful stable buildings, across the cobbles and back round into the stunning (and, thankfully, mostly sheltered) wooded grounds of the Chateau. Repeat.

The legs start cramping as soon as I set off but I know John is watching so I better smile and plod along at least until I get out of sight amongst the trees. “Steady away wins the day Jenkins.” 2km in and all of a sudden I am desperate for a wee. Bugger. Well at least we are in a forest, sort of. Only it’s not a very thick forest – mmmm. Find a tree, find a tree. I dash off into the undergrowth, as covered and out of sight as I can possibly be. There’s no-one around.. It’s the tiniest wee in the world! Feel better though. There was no-one around….Sure as damn it a poor bloke gets a good eyeful of my naked white ass as he comes around the corner of the trail and I’m mid shorts pull-up. Never mind. He’s probably French.

I trundle along. Thankful of the water at 4km and shouts of “Allez, allez, allez” and “Bravo” and “Courage”. People are so god damn supportive, especially the women. It was like I was some kind of heroine on a mission. Electrolytes and water at 8km and back into the Chateau grounds where, at around 10km, I find my lovely boyfriend waiting for me again. He runs alongside, in his denim shorts and bare chest with his little backpack on. We chat a bit and I’m surprised I’m not even out of breath. It’s been a steady hour or so and I am starting to melt in the heat. It’s so energy sapping. John makes some comments about how well I’m doing and how warm it is but I really couldn’t tell you what actual words passed our lips. He leads me through, still shuffling along with me, and shows me where I am supposed to be going to start the second lap. I pass a lady spectator who is waiting near the finish – she gives me some massive claps and a nod of appreciation for my task ahead and says some really nice things to me in French which make me well up a little. So emotional. The spectators are plentiful and there is huge support. John, still by my side, whispers some more sweet nothings of encouragement to me before the heat gets too much for him and he has to stop running 😉  and once again I am alone. I head up the one and only hill on the route but my little legs won’t carry me and I have to walk. I get to the top and am a bit confused as to which way I’m supposed to go. A marshal shouts me over and I have to run around, through transition and around again. It seems like a real pain in the backside, but the support from people in the transition area is second to none. They see the white number bib (indicating I am hardcore) and I get a little bit of a cheer. “Courage”.

The second lap is quite simply a blur. This was the most difficult but also the easiest part of the race – all rolled into one. I have battled the demons and I know I am going to make it to the finish, but I am fading fast in the heat and my legs are severely cramping. I drink as much water as I can stomach at the feed stations, start necking the gels, stand in the “douche” (man with cold water hosepipe) for as long as I can take it, chat to fellow competitors (who are also still trundling along), make French jokes as we pass the ice-cream van (which are so much posher in Chantilly). I run, I walk. Run. Walk. A fellow French gauntlet competitor tells me to keep going as he stops for a drink. You keep going too Monsieur, we’re not done yet. The sweeping support crew catch me up in the van at around 16k (only 5 left to go!!) – they are doing the rounds to make sure no-one is dying/collapsing in the heat. Thankfully I am running at this stage. I hear a laugh behind me and a very English, Southern, “This is what you get for spending all day drinking in the boozer”, as one of them is hanging out of the window of the van. [Strange coincidence, but we had actually met them in a bar the afternoon before *not all day drinking before my Half Iron]. Funny man. “Give us a lift then?” I squeak back. Equally as funny. After all the hilarities and seriously witty repartee, they asked a few questions to check up on me properly, I think to make sure I was still coherent (I’m OK. Struggling along, but OK. Legs have gone, but I’ll be right) and then they move on to the tall French man shuffling along a way in front of me.

As I enter the Chateau grounds for the second time, and the marshal on the gates (recognising me from round one) starts telling me in French that all good things come to those who work their backsides off (I think), I start feeling powerfully moved. Tearful and emotional. The French language is so beautiful. I have about 2km to go and I am a wreck. It’s all bubbling over and I have to have a word with myself. Not now Jenkins, you got this, don’t ruin it all by becoming a blubbering mess. I walk, and take some deep breaths, I spy people and I can hear the noise from the Chateau, Run it in Jenkins, run it in. Keep on keeping on. A passerby tells me (in French – there’s so many of them foreigners out there) that I “just” have a really short way to go and it’s “just”around the corner. He claps. “Courage”.

I know where I have to go, I know it’s not far, but it feels like miles away, and then I hear a cheer in the distance as the crowd goes a little wild for the tall shuffling French man ahead. Hold it together Jenkins, deep breaths. I come round the corner, sun blazing, Chateau in full view. There he is again, my man, waiting for me still, my support crew “extraordinaire”. He is full of awe, super proud and buzzing!! He runs alongside me again, up towards the Chateau, telling me lots of nice things which I can’t now remember. The crowd are mostly competitors who have already completed and are sat in the shade amongst the trees. “Courage, Bravo, Courage”, lots of cheering and clapping. I am trying not to cry as I pass, “merci, merci, merci”. And then John leaves me to do the last little lap around the fountain on my own. I spy the same spectator lady from earlier – she is still there and has this really proud look on her face! “Felicitations”, “Bravo”, “Courage”…more clapping..(I’m sure my Mum sent her) and over the finish line.

And that’s it. I’m there. I have a medal. I AM DONE. Officially Half Iron Chick.

A ridiculous 2h and 29 mins to do a half marathon.. But I DON’T CARE.

7 hours and 14 seconds in total. And what a roller coaster ride to get there.

It’s a benchmark 😉

Officially Half Iron Lady