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by Mike Melia.
Original Post: It all came flooding back
Feed Title: I know the meaning of life, it doesn't help me a bit
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It's funny how easily the mind manages to hide away the memories of physical pain when that pain is a by-product of a pleasure-bringing activity. I guess that is how women manage to go through multiple child births.
To my enormous pride, I ran a marathon for the first time last year. It was tough, both mentally and physically; the training schedule was demanding but the feeling of achievement was immense. Since that day in October I've eased off on the running training, chasing personal bests for much shorter distances. In fact, in mid-December I made a conscious decsion to take a month off running altogether. It wasn't a break from all exercise, the purchase of a new bike ensured that wouldn't happen, I just felt that a month away from running would help me push on to the next level.
This absence coincided with a few weeks of illness, though I doubt they are related events, so my fitness levels seemed to drop quite considerably. I haven't been a complete sloth, it just feels like it. Despite cycling to and from work daily, and a few short runs in the past couple of weeks, I have felt sluggish and heavy. This, coupled with the sweltering Melbourne summer have chipped away at the normal excitement I feel about embarking on a longer run. It's hard to run great distances when the temperature is constantly over 30C and occasionally up over 40C. It's also hard for me not to feel sluggish and heavy if I haven't taken on a few longer runs. It's a bit of catch-22 situation and something extra needed to be added to the equation to get me out of the cycle.
That something extra arrived in the form of a commitment to compete in a mini-triathlon. The company I work for has entered a couple of teams in a corporate event and I agreed to participate. The actual distances for the three events doesn't worry me in the slightest; I should be able to rock up and complete the triathlon without any trouble, even in my current shape. What really worries me is, in fact, my current shape and the fact that we may have to wear triathlon uniforms. Yes, vanity has got the better of me and the thought of my colleagues seeing parts of me wobble that really shouldn't be wobbling strikes fear into my heart. So now the motivation isn't to get under 45 minutes for a 10k nor to break 3 and a half hours for a marathon (though these ambitions remain). My motivation is vanity and the desire to actually look like an athlete.
Armed with this new goal, I forced myself out the house yesterday determined to run for 20km at a speed that would burn off some of the excess fat that had now become an unwelcome feature of my form. The first couple of kilometres always feels slightly uncomfortable as you find your rhythm and regulate your breathing and heart rate. This discomfort was exacerbated by the fact that my water bottle was leaking from the top. If I plan to run for longer than an hour I make sure that I am carrying water in my water belt. This is a simple device that straps around my waist and has a cup holder to allow me to place a water bottle in the small of my back. Hydration with clean water is now guaranteed. The watre belt and bottle are usually unobtrusive but this wasn't the case yesterday. Each stride I took seemed to force the bottle to ejaculate(!) a small drop of water that splashed over the back of my shorts. As the splashes accumulated they began to soak down the back of my running shorts with the damp patch moving under my groin and around to the front. After a few kilometres it was becoming obvious from the smiles of passers-by that it looked as though I had a bladder problem. In a pathetic attempt to hide my identity I pulled the peak of my cap down low and continued plodding. At the turn-aound point my water bottle was empty and I knew that I had to refill. Whilst the temperature had dropped, it still felt quite humid and it was important that I stayed hydrated. The run through the Bayside area of Melbourne is very picturesque, with the beach on one side and the most fabulous, expensive houses on the other. The council appreciate the appeal of this area and try to keep the standard of the facilities suitably high. The foreshore is used by walkers, skaters, runners and cyclists and, consequently, there are numerous water fonts and toilet facilities on the route.
Yesterday I chose to refill my water bottle at the only skanky water font on the Bayside run. The bowl was filled with rain water and the outlet was blocked with an unidentified substance. The jet of the water couldn't get quite high enough to land in my bottle and, in order to catch this low stream, I had to dunk the bottle dangerously low in the unknown soup filling the bowl. My confidence was not as high as my thirst. The first taste confirmed my fears. Something wasn't quite right with this water but I persisted, stupidly.
The second half of the run started well but, predictably, I started to feel gradually worse; especially getting into the last 5km. My legs felt tired, really tired. Were they more tired than they should be? I wasn't sure initially but the memories of previous long runs began to return. Yes, I'd felt tired on those runs, especially when I was trying a new distance. And, with the extended period away, this was probably the same as trying a new distance. But it wasn't just the tired legs, nor the blister that was starting to make itself known (damn, I'd forgotten about the blisters!), something was not right in my stomach. Oh Lord! Please don't let it be an attack of the Paula Radcliffe's. I tried to ignore the grumbling from my guts and focussed instead on the pains coming from my feet and legs. Did I really enjoy this? Why did I forget that it hurts so fucking much? Why did I think that 20km was easing my way back into it?
I eventually managed to shuffle home with gritted teeth. The subsequent and numerous trips to the bathroom last night confirmed my fears about the quality of the water in my bottle but I hope I've learned an important lesson about refuelling on the run. To be fair, it was a few hours of discomfort but I recovered and now feel fine. I'm a lot happier that I have that first longer run under my belt and I'm especially happy that I remembered to shower my legs with icy cold water for a good ten minutes in the first hour after finishing the run. I can walk freely today thanks to that treatment. Some running memories are useful to recall.
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