A student of Greek mythology

Having completely naused up the previous weekends competition, my attention turned to the second part of the Welsh Masters Indoor Championships on  the 2nd of February, so that meant back to the couch with my trusty bucket of cold water to sort out the Achilles. It's always been my weak spot, both of my Achilles have given out at some point during each of the last few seasons as a Master, so I've come to learn to get use to the feeling and how far I can push it before it feels like some Greek warrior just planted and arrow in my lower leg. So, with that in mind I planned 4 days off with enough cold water to turn my left foot into a prune. As it happened personal circumstances lead to me being unable to get do the track all week.

Achilles, God of the lower leg

Training had to change as attempting to run was stupid even for me, so I set about my rowing machine and exercise bike with renewed vigour. Unfortunately both the bike and rower have seen better days, and the bike's pedals have broken straps and I soon slipped off and smacked my "good" Achilles on the pedal. Not a good start, now both Achilles hurt. By the end of the week, the rowing machine was making more creaking noises than my legs, well I hope the noise is the rowing machine anyway.

By the Saturday normal service had been resumed below the knee, so Sunday was given over to a short sprint session indoors in the dry and comparative warm of NIAC in Cardiff. I managed 6x60m sprints flat out (ish) whilst my daughter improved her long jumping technique. I have to say her progress was somewhat greater than mine although I have to say I wasn't moving too badly. The Achilles went straight into the bucket of cold water as soon as I got in.

Monday, and training was back on the creaky bike and the even more creaky rowing machine. It went well enough for me to decide to run on Tuesday night, but  then my track record in making decisions in this area is not exactly outstanding, more Kamikazi in style.

I ended up regretting the decision but for an entirely different reason. As I crossed the Severn Bridge, leaving drizzly old England behind on my way back from work, it actually stopped raining for once. "Ah!" I thought, "Its going to be a good session after all!". 30 seconds later as I regained God's own country, the rain turned so heavy I was in danger of drowning - Croes Y Gymru! The session of 4x40m + 4x30m flat out was somehow completed into this driving and freezing rain, it was so cold I was losing the power of speech. And I even said so at the club: "I seen tau bee looshin der parer of speeth!".

By the morning, I was reaping the rewards, but the speed is coming slowly.

Depressing January vibes

Winter has really washed ashore in Wales this year, the Sunday night run was downright awful, I left home weighing 11 stone 8 and got back 5 minutes later over 12 stone thanks to the latest in a long line of storms that had blown through Wales taking most of Aberystwyth with it and leaving the various rivers some what wider than they were last year. Consequently I only managed one 1Km run without drowning, before giving that up as a bad job. So on Monday I did a bit of extra indoor training on my exercise bike, which is now sadly behaving like my legs and is also knackered, it's touch and go who will give out first as both parties are creaking ominously.

By Tuesday the weather had abated a bit and I returned to the track for a sprint session, 4x150 plus 6x60m which was a little ambitious. My Achilles tendon was still suspect so I was expecting trouble, and so it was. First 150 went OK, run with the wind in 21 secs, second followed well enough in 20, and the third one clocked in at 21 flat. The final one began in the rain and a certain grizzly bear was waving at me at the 100m mark, so through the pain barrier once more, it all went a bit blurry and I could hear a voice saying "Don't go into the light!". I clocked 21 seconds again but I was more than spent, so after regaining the ability to walk, I shuffled back to the stand, grabbed my drink and comforted myself with the thought that I won't be doing the 60m's after that. Took half hour before I was able to contemplate riding home, even then getting the bike into the garage was a major operation that almost ended in disaster as the big Honda took more than one attempt to go through the garage door which had somehow got steeper.

My Honda on a rare dry sunny day on  the driveway

Needless to say, walking around on Wednesday morning was a very painful affair, despite several buckets of freezing cold water and lots of Ibuprofen and other assorted pain killers. But by the evening things improved and I was able to think about the weekend's Welsh Masters Indoor Championships once more, as thinking rarely hurts.

Thankfully by Thursday evening things had settled down enough for another sprint session, so despite the rain and pain I got stuck into a short sharp shock session of 4x30m, rest and clear the snot, 4x40m, rest and clear the snot again, and finish with 4x50m block starts, only I could not fit my blocks on the bike so I had to do without. Went pretty well, still not the sharpest of runs but the cold, the rain, the 65 mile bike ride beforehand all lent themselves as genuine excuses. Still needed a few buckets of ice cold water afterwards though.

So it was no surprise that the weekend championships went badly, I started bravely (but stupidly) with the triple jump only to find my run up had benefited from "improved stride length" and the plan of getting one in and scratching ended up with 3 no jumps and one rubbish safe one, placing me second as expected but with a crap performance.

The 200m was the main race of the day, and I was hopeful of winning that one, especially as nobody else had entered (where were you guys?), I got stuck in with a couple of M35 rabbits so did in fact have a proper race to contend with, exciting it was too. Came out of the blocks well and had made up the stagger on the others by half way down the back straight, kicked on hard mid way on the second bend and almost tripped on a fridge some damn bear had left lying about, shortly followed by a small localised detonation just above my left ankle as the Achilles gave out. I was just about caught on the line in 28.93, a time only ever seen during training reps. Consequences of such stupidity resulted in me having to scratch from the long jump which I would easily have won and had boasting right over the other younger age groups to boot.

Once again, it was home to the ice bucket, pain killers and the odd single malt, just the Tescos sh*t this time as there was nothing to celebrate despite one gold and one silver and a resolution to change my training round starting withh 4 days rest.

The Christmas New Year

I'm not sure I really enjoyed Christmas. I was still suffering from the weekends training session on Christmas eve and my wife went down with a virus, so I was doing a bit more than intended when I managed to strain my back getting stuff out of the attic. So by Christmas day I was having trouble walking and that was before I started on the whisky. The day started gently with a rather rare 8 year old Little Mill, lovely and lemony, then the afternoon progressed with a stunningly smooth 1960 Strathisla, from Keith, Speyside, my expensive 37 year old special treat that I've had a few years now and enjoy on occasions of importance. I finished the day with a simple but lovely 12 year old Highland Park, which did nothing for my ability to stand up.

Boxing day was going well until lunchtime when the wife's virus put in an appearance, and by the evening I was on the coke and feeling crap, but at least the legs were working again, even if the back had given up the ghost. Friday's session at NIAC went by the board as I spent most of the day in bed coughing my guts up and filling every available handkerchief with gunk that I'd rather never see again. By Sunday things were improving snot wise but the back was struggling, so no training was contemplated before the new year which was not good news, but at least the virus kept me from putting on more than 2 pounds or so, though I was missing out on the single malt celebrations.

I survived the new year, though I did manage to ship a decent half dozen single malts from the remains of the Highland Park bottle which sadly didn't get to see in the New Year. Not worry as I had another for Christmas along with five other bottles, including two Penderyn specials, a Macallan 10 year old, a Glenlivet 12 tear old, and a 10 year old Edradour that will all go on my ever increasing drinkables list.

Thursday, and the tracks in South Wales all re-opened and I was back in work feeling dreadful and rapidly running out of snot rags. The evening was cold and nobody was surprised that it rained heavily, least of all me. The session was ambitious considering I had not run since the 22nd of the previous month, 6x60m sprints, supposedly flat out, followed by 3x150m in whatever I could manage. Well the 60m 'sprints' were done, my back complained every inch of the way as the rolling starts were executed with all the power and grace of a 10,000m runner on chocolate pud. Shame really as I don't do 10K's even accidentally, but I do Chocolate pud. I ran them into the wind so the 150's could be done with the gale now lashing horizontal rain in from the chemical factory next door. First one went OK, but I fumbled the watch due to the rapid loss of feeling beyond my wrists, second was 22 and the mucus was slopping painfully around my sinuses like water. During the third one I became re-acquainted with my old friend the Bear and I see he's now got a new fridge, one of those American ones I see, so much heavier! Sadly as I crossed the line I could feel pain in my left Achilles again.

Friday dawned and I had to traverse the stairs sideways - good leg - bad leg, trouble was I wasn't entirely sure I had a good leg anymore. Next couple of days was spent with my foot in a bucket of cold water whilst I tried to recover and cope with my back pain, not looking too good for the Welsh Masters Indoor championships next Sunday (6th). Driving to work, yes I gave up riding the Bike due to another storm closing the roads and motorways in South Wales for the second time in a month, was painful but I hope to do some road runs on Sunday, however, we shall see as the USA is sending us one of their storms now they've finished with it, so we will see.