Bother! Said Pooh

I’ve been told one of the biggest challenges of marathon training is getting to the start line in one piece. A stat one of my running partners gave me the other week was that I can expect to cover 400 miles between then (end of January) and race day on April 17. So I guess niggles along the way are inevitable. That said, they’re still frustrating when they appear.

Having fended off the issues I was having at the top of my left leg and left hip before Christmas, focus has moved down the leg to a sore calf. I tore the same muscle about a year ago, and this morning, being a bit paranoid with the bigger picture in mind, I aborted a Parkrun at the 4K mark being aware of discomfort at the back of my lower left leg. It took about a month to recover from the tare and, although it wouldn’t be an absolute disaster at this stage, it’s a lay off I could do without.

I confess I can be a bit of a careless runner, and by my usual standards I think I’ve been very well behaved these past couple of months.

Things like not running in shorts when the temperature is minus something. I’ve done the most stretching since I got my marathon place since the days of explosive track work ten years ago. I bought new trainers around New Year, giving myself plenty of time to wear them in, doing so as I was increasing the miles by only about five per week. Then there’s one of my favourite tricks, the hot water bottle treatment. Rather than sitting in a hot bath to relax tired limbs, I hate baths, I’ll rest a hot water bottle on the part of the body that’s feeling stiff and the same effect is achieved.

Given that this is the most amount of running I’ve done in terms of miles per week, ever, I think I’d have done extremely well not to have broken at all before April, and in the grand scheme of things, this niggle isn’t a worry.

I’m due to run Wokingham Half Marathon next Sunday, and given how my training has been going, am looking good for a decent performance. If, and it remains if, I don’t make it, it won’t be the end of the world, we’ll see how the leg is as the week goes on. That's the pragmatic line of course, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't concerned about next Sunday and it would also be untrue if I said were I to miss it that I wasn't disappointed given my current form.

Of more immediate concern is tomorrow. I won’t be going for the eighteen miler that was planned. Not getting up for a bit of an epic will seem odd, what do non runners do with their Sundays?

Looking at an online TV guide if they’ve got any sense it won’t be spent in front of the box. Aside from the perfectly reasonable option of ‘Goals on Sunday’ (Sky Sports), choices appear to include two and a half hours of ‘Hollyoaks’ (Channel 4), I’ve not watched that since
Finn sailed off into the sunset on a barge with Cat Deeley, or the uninspiring combination offered by ITV of ‘May the Best House Win’ which sounds rubbish, followed by something called ‘The Biggest Loser’ which I expect is even worse.

Given that I shan't be posting my weekly miles, Tuesday was another five, a good intervals session once again. Thursday was the standard ten mile lap of Richmond Park, and, like this morning, a very windy place it was too. To close on a Pooh Bear reference (like the title of this post), it certainly wasn't the time to be going to wish your friend Owl a "very happy Thursday" because, as you'll know if you're familiar with the Pooh books (if not, why not?) it was on just such a blustery Thursday that Owl's house blew down.