10K on the treadmill

I got to the gym early today, psyched to break the 10K barrier, which has held sway these past 36 years. Early because I didn't want my travails abruptly shortened, by some jaunty up and comer, looking to get his heart rate up, who'd bounce me off the treadmill. Psyched because it felt like today would be the day.

Loosening up, warming up, stretching all went like clockwork. I climbed on, set off at a brisk clip, and before I knew it I was 3k to the good, and "Eye of the Tiger" was keeping rhythm. The next 2ks were a little harder, but no real problems.

At the 5K mark the customary nagging doubts began ... i started to question my ability to go all the way. I began to feel every little tightening of the calf muscles, I sensed twinges of pain in the lower back and my quads hurt like hell. But I pulled through to the 7k mark blocking just counting numbers to keep my mind fom wandering.

Rasta running

At 7k, a new calm came over me, and I began to experience what I had only read about as a "runner's high." While i have no illusions about hitting this high at my pace and only 7ks of distance, I have no other way to explain what I experienced either. While I've read multiple versions of the reason for this experience, from the physiological to the metaphysical none of which make much sense, that it even exists is pretty cool!! From 7k to 11k I ran as though in a trance, and i only stopped because I had to get home ... and for the first time since I kicked off this madness, I STARTED TO BELIEVE!!

10K on my 10th in Kerala

I thought I'd surprise myself and run 10k on my 10th anniversary (Jul 12), to show how 10 married years hadn't dulled the flesh any. I happened to be basking at the time in the Kerala backwaters with the missus, and figured this would be the perfect backdrop to an epic run.

Tranquil ... as far as the eye can see

Unfortunately, I never got a chance to test the flesh, since the spirit gave up the ghost pretty early in the day. The Kerala backwaters, where time stands still and the soul soars, would have to do without the sight of a large man trotting across the horizon, blotting out the sunset.

Even I couldn't stay cross with my weakening spirit for long, for in Gods own country, it's peace on Earth for as far as the eye can see. 10K would have to wait for another day ...

Sizing up the Gymmers

Ever since my debacle at the races, I've been diligently hitting the gym, fear and embarrassment replacing misplaced bravado and confidence of yore. nothing fancy just a decent run at a decent speed, followed by a light exercise routine holding it all together. I still can't bring myself to go to the gym and restrict my workout to the cardio machines - the disdain I held for them in youth gets in the way of what should be a fairly simple choice.

I've started to notice fellow gym rats, as i am sure they have me. There's the jockers who truly belong in the gym, the fockers who think they belong in the gym, and the shockers who have no illusions on either. Right now I'm lighting up the rearguard action for the shockers, who are in desperate need of some leadership. We're kind of a brooding bunch - we grudgingly acknowledge one another, never openly sneering at the peacock types, yet all carrying sociopathic tendencies beneath a calm exterior. 

Having achieved some modest successes in a sporting life long, long ago I'm not about to settle for bottom of the barrel just because I've gained a few pounds (Editor's Note: it's more like a few stone). Nosirree bob!! And so I hone the focus of the shockers, using eyebrow gestures to bring home the point, since none of us will talk, until each operates with head held high and mission clear ...

... I will have to take this blog up later - the post workout beers have me rocking, and i can see I'm starting to ramble. Cheers (hic)!!

Running Kaminey Ishtyle

After 3 months of wearing down our building treadmill, it is time to air out my sea legs, and run with the people. I woke up at 6:00 am to the great amusement of Subs, and headed for the Turf Club. To say I was unprepared for the sea of activity that awaited, would be like saying Tiger had an indiscretion. I was gobsmacked!!

Mumbaikars of all shapes and sizes were out in numbers getting their health thang on. The who's who of brands ran by, designer tights decked in jewelry yakked in animated voice passed in a gaggle, and the  senior brigade strode by purpsefully - all appeared focused on keeping a good burn going. I had thought I'd be amongst a few intrepid folk who chose to brave the dawn, nodding understandingly at them, as if to say "I feel your pain." Instead I was an onlooker to a world that new exactly what they were up to, and i was the only fool trying to figure out what was what. 

In case you're wondering, this is how I felt ... not how I looked

Trepidation notwithstanding, I got going at a gentle pace and soon fell into a rhythm. The course is all of 2.2.K, and so after the initial going, the runners certainly thin out, allowing me to reflect and soak it in. So tranquil, so serene. My reverie was broken by the clatter of hooves, and I turned to see 4 horses tearing up the track alongside me. In spite of my ambling pace,  imagery of running Kaminey ishtyle flashed through my head.

After 3 km of running with White Beauties alongside, my left calf muscle suddenly locked up and the air whooshed out of my Kaminey balloon. I hobbled the remaining kilometer back to my chariot, with pain coursing through, and vowed never to leave sight of my trusty treadmill.

Back on the Horse

In Traction

Just when it started to look like I'm in the clear, I was laid low by a freak injury which grabbed hold of my neck and wrung it like a dishcloth. Actually it only felt that way ... I couldn't say how it happened but one minute I was typing at the keyboard, the next I was grimacing with pain shooting up and down my neck.

It was the kind of pain, which forced me to stay prostrate for the better part of the day while Subs worked copious quantities of Powergesic gel into my stretched (torn??) muscle. The heat only served to diffuse the pain, and it kept returning, preventing any sort of movement.

This is what I should have used.

Interestingly, the only ruse that worked was the application a bag of rice (we used a pillow case), which moulded to the neck, and held it in place. Apparently the rice has some curative properties of gradually drawing away the pain. While my situation bordered on the ridiculous, I was in no position to argue or even bring scientific enquiry to bear, and so I sat immobilized, rice pillow stuck to my neck.

For two days I kept alternating balm, meds and rice till the pain became bearable. Today I went in to work, cautious, distrusting my treacherous muscle, but it didn't let m down. I spent the entire day favoring my left side and I can tell it will start getting sore, but that's thinking for another day.

The internet can make me an astronaut

There’s only so much self-pity I can wallow in, before I’ve gotta get out of the funk and start thinking Solutions. I can’t have what seems a relatively simple mission dashed by wobbly trotters.

I started trawling the internet in earnest to figure out how to fix myself. I’ve always believed “the truth is out there. You’ve just gotta know the questions.” This one’s going to be a doozy, though – “How do you gear up a middle-aged, roundish, weekend squash enthusiast to run a distance 4 times longer than he’s ever done?” Even with vast access to the collective wisdom of the ages, I’m certain the Internet’s going to be tempted to “Phone a Friend”

The internet stayed true to its billing and proved to be a gold mine of information, motivation, reality - sort of like a personal trainer, who can show me the way, but can’t reach around and crack me under the ear (painful childhood memories of baithaks at Illusions come flooding back)

Back with new resolve in true internet ishtyle, as an ode to the doyens who lit my path, I’m including their trails so other runner fools may benefit (may it lift their Page Rank)

http://www.pponline.co.uk/encyc/marathon-running-common-mistakes-avoid-your-marathon-training-plan-148
http://www.halhigdon.com/15Ktraining/Stretch.htm
http://walking-running-training.suite101.com/article.cfm/strength_training_exercises_for_runners
http://www.marathon-training-program.com/training-program-for-half-marathons.html
http://www.runnersworld.com/article/0,7120,s6-238-244--6851-2-2X5X8-4,00.html
http://www.ehow.com/way_5251459_hamstring-exercises-running.html
http://sportsmedicine.about.com/od/legpainandinjuries/a/muscle_spasms.htm
http://www.drpribut.com/sports/topten_avoidinjury.html
http://www.drpribut.com/sports/longrun.html
http://www.dummies.com/how-to/content/hitting-your-running-stride.html

Feet of Clay

My legs feel like two strands of boiled linguini. Every little motion results in a tremor down my limbs. Why could I have not seen through my earlier passion of playing on the Senior PGA Tour. My only regret the day after would’ve been not yelling “Fore” as my ball narrowly missed a well-heeled patron.

Anyhoot, running is my new thang, and my toes are glaring up at me, shouting ‘You’ve gotta create some separation from the dessert cart if we’re going to make this work.” My mind’s listening but my heart doesn’t hear a word.

What I’ve gotta figure it out is how to keep these dang calves from locking up. Everything else seems like it’ll grow into the new routine. My calves not so much!!

Hope Springs Eternal ...

I got back on the horse this week after sore shins grew les painful, fearful of a repeat of performance. I started out a workmanlike 7 k’s and kept this going for 10 mins. I paid scant attention to glances from fellow gym rats, who must have been wondering why I was attempting to run at a pace most choose to walk at.

No this isn't really me :-)    ... it's how I felt in the zone!!

No matter that I was going slow – my legs appeared to be warming to the task, and my mind was happily distracted by the shapely shapes on FTV (I find the BG treadmills are frequently tuned to this inspirational channel). I increased pace to 8.5K’s and kept going for just under an hour. This was more like it. A couple of stops and starts later, I clocked 6KM in around 50 mins, and hopped off my mount feeling pretty good about myself. 




To say I expected “We’re not worthy” type prostration from onlookers, is pushing it, but a grin of encouragement or two would’ve been nice. None was forthcoming. Nevertheless I ran a solitary victory lap in my head – I haven’t run this kind of distance since the early 90s, and so this performance was rawther impressive, to say the least.

I figured running 21 K’s shouldn’t take more than a gentle increase in speed and distance each week, and before you know it, Bob’s yer uncle and I’m breasting the tape. I was still to catch my first episode of Radiant Runner meets Rude Reality.

Burning Rubber

With a stubborn Halfer’s resolve and a lump the size of a cantaloupe in my throat I set off to conquer my Waterloo – the treadmill. A more soulless (and pointless) invention I have yet to come across.  Still, if I couldn’t best it the Half would be out of the question, and so I clambered on.

I set off burning rubber (at my weight, there’s even a little smoke) at a grand speed of 8Ks and quickly dialed it up to 11. It took a while to get into my “runner’s rhythm” but just as I started to get cocky, the wheels fell off. At the 12 min mark, my calf muscles began to lock and I went from a steady stride to a hobble in the span of a few minutes, and I climbed off the horse.

Yesterday I played squash with Kunz to test out my gimpy legs, and it reconfirmed my weak state, post the treadmill debacle. IT confirmed my biggest fears - these legs weren’t built to run, they were built to lumber into the kitchen and grab a quick bite.