A 2011 retro-/ introspective

2011 started with an injury and continued along the same lines until its conclusion. I've been injured the whole year: plantar fasciitis, a strained thigh muscle, and the mysterious pain in my foot that comes and goes, but never goes completely. One or all of them have accompanied me every single day of the past year.

It was the year where a black cloud came into my life and firmly established itself over my head. I've managed to ignore it for the best part of the year. I don't have to look up, after all. But it's there. Oh, it's there. It's casting a shadow and blocking out the sun. I wish I could say that it hadn't affected me, but it has, and it will continue to do so in the months to come. The work situation didn't help, either; stress has been a constant issue, especially last autumn.

But it was also the year where new milestones were reached. New personal records were set. New boundaries were crossed and new goals suddenly became realistic. I ran two half-marathons in the spring, on a still-injured foot, after having spent the entire winter with ”long runs” of 12-15 km. The first one was run on an empty stomach – now that was an experience I wouldn't recommend to anyone. In the summer, I had a taste of trail running in the mountains and fell head over heels in love with it. I built endurance and perseverance by running a few 30 km- runs solo. Last August, I covered a distance of over 60 km on foot, 51 while running. In the autumn, I ran my first marathon race. And, finally, last November I tested my limits and came out on the other side unscathed: the Ultra Intervals, 8x10km in one day, and one of the most bizarre and most wonderful experiences of my life.

Races, group runs, mud, mountains and many, many kilometres...this year had them all

It was the year I ran over 2200 km, which is 800 km more than last year and an average of approximately 185 km per month and 6 km per day. Despite all my injuries. Or maybe my injuries were a result of these 2200 km? Last New Year's Eve, as I was saying goodbye to my dream of running Stockholm marathon because of my raging plantar fasciitis, one of my resolutions was to listen to my body more. I think that I have done that, despite the obvious evidence to the contrary. I have gotten better at telling when that pain I'm feeling is just a passing one and I can keep running, and when it's the kind that can lead to injury. Better; not great. I'm still learning. I've also gotten better at prehab, building up strength in my body so that it can cope with what I put it through. Let's hope that it pays off in 2012 and that I can spend the year injury free.

Thanks for the memories, 2011. You've been a nasty piece of excrement at times. But I kind of loved you anyway.

Don't dream it, be it

If I let a little tornado stop me from running, I'd never go running here in Gothenburg. So despite the fact that the Apocalypse seemed to be taking place outside our flat this morning, I still braved the elements and ran the 10 km to work. It wasn't as bad as it looked from the inside of the flat, and, for most of it, the sudden gusts of strong wind hit me on the back. It almost never is as bad as it looks. Except as I'm writing these lines. It is exactly as bad as it looks, and I think I saw a Russian submarine fly past our balcony just a minute ago.

While I ran in this morning's relatively tame hurricane (relatively by current standards), my thoughts drifted to more pleasant things. To different weather conditions and other geographical coordinates. I dreamt of mosquitoes, and moose, and wilderness, and running many, many kilometres under the warm light of the midnight sun. Was it just a dream, or will it become reality one day?

Running blind

I made a compromise with myself this morning. I didn't feel like running the 20-odd kilometres that seemed so appealing last night. In fact, I didn't feel like doing anything. The prospect of sitting on my butt all day staring at the wall seemed like the best idea in the world.

I didn't even want to leave my bed. It was cold, I had a headache, and my mouth was so dry that I was certain I had caught a cold. I wasn't exactly in a great mood, either. A few weeks ago I applied for a very exciting distance course in Sports Psychology; yesterday I found out that I was on the waiting list. Number 30. What are the chances of 30 applicants dropping out? Not that great. I was really disappointed. But really, what did I expect, applying for a course almost two months after the deadline?

I know for a fact that sitting on my butt all day staring at the wall doesn't make me feel better. So the deal I made with myself was that I'd put on my running clothes and I'd head outside for a shorter run. The goal was 10 km. Once I set my mind on it, it wasn't difficult to leave the flat. The sun had hardly shed any light on this part of the world. It still hasn't. A light drizzle accompanied me all the way, irritatingly fogging up my glasses and distorting my view into a kaleidoscope of greys. I ran blind.

After the first couple of rounds, my previously inexplicably tired legs woke up and started doing their thing. You know, moving willingly and propelling me forward. I pushed myself to run a little more, a little further. And when I reached 10 km, I set a new goal. I'd run 15 km. So I did. It felt great, and it felt even better once I got out of the rain, into the flat and into some warm clothes. Now I kind of wish I'd gone for the 20-odd kilometres.

Priorities

This ”work” concept is seriously flawed. I mean, what if you have better things to do? Like go for a run? Or finish your book? Or clean the toilet? Or emigrate to North Korea? What if aliens invade the earth but you miss it because you're at work? WHAT IF?!

Outside the streets are empty, everyone probably asleep, still trying to digest Saturday's meal. A long weekend is not enough for me to refill my drained batteries. When your mind is occupied by almost nothing but work-related thoughts for months, it's hard to empty it and reset it in just 3 days. Still, I have to work today. In a most likely misguided attempt to save my precious few leave days for later, I didn't take any time off. I wish I had; I'm dying to find out whodunit in Pratchett's book.

I am the walrus

Letting my legs decide how far, how fast and in which direction I'd run this morning led me to my usual half marathon round, past horses and sheep and one very surprised pheasant standing in the middle of a field. I had promised J that we'd go climbing later, so I tried finding a balance between running fast enough to get home in time and running slow enough to preserve my energy for later. It was lovely; mild temperatures and a light breeze on my back, like a friendly hand helping me along.

My plan must have worked, because not only did I have time for a quick shower and lunch, I also had enough energy left later to climb that 6B+ that I'd had my eye on. A 6B+ is the hardest I've climbed, and I did it after running a half marathon. I guess it goes to show. But what it shows, I don't know. That sometimes you climb better when you're tired? That sometimes, if you climb fast enough, your puny little skeletal arms don't have to work so hard and you make it to the top despite your lack of technique and strength? I could of course brag about how I run half marathons as a warm up but these kind of bold claims have to be put to the test and I doubt I'd be able to repeat my performance.

That's not to say that it was pretty. I wrote yesterday that I spent the day on the sofa lying motionless like a walrus. Imagine a walrus climbing up a wall. It's loud. It's cringe worthy. Someone always ends up getting hurt and it's not always the walrus (make sure not to stand under a walrus while he/she's climbing). Thankfully the only injury I inflicted on anyone was on myself, and a light one at that: strained muscles and shaky hands.  And a small swelling in the vicinity of the chest area, but that might be just pride.

Non, je ne regrette rien

It wasn't without jealousy I read how friends and complete strangers bragged about their Christmas day runs on jogg.se. After imbibing one too many alcoholic beverages last night, I have spent the best part of my day on the sofa making like a walrus and lying there motionlessly, entombed in a thick layer of Christmas food induced fat. Finding myself, yet again – as is always the case on the rare occasion I find myself in this situation – wondering why I don't just give up pretending I like drinking and its side effects, and become a teetotaller. I'm practically one anyway. I mean, what a waste of a beautiful, sunny morning. I couldn't even be bothered to go for a walk.

Wine. That's why I'm not a teetotaller.

In case you hadn't already deduced it from the above, last night a great time was had by all. It was Christmas just the way I wanted it (although, like I said, in hindsight I should have stopped after the first bucket of wine and contended myself with the first 10 portions of food, if only to have been able to do something constructive with my day today - overindulgence does not agree with me). This day wasn't completely wasted, though, despite my reluctance towards doing anything more physically strenuous than using the keyboard on my computer. I had started on Terry Pratchett's “Snuff” a few days ago, and it wasn't until today I really got into it. The initial disappointment I'd felt after the first few pages turned into love. A good book should really be read in one sitting to be fully appreciated; reading a couple of pages every night before my eyelids get too heavy and the words stop making sense is not doing any books justice. A full review of the book will of course be coming early in 2012, as part of the Cannonball Read.

Tomorrow we resume our regularly scheduled programme. I'm only 45 or so kilometres away from reaching 2200 km this year and, as you know, I'm a complete geek for even numbers. With less than a week to go before this year's end, it's time to get cracking.

Happy Yuletide!

Run on Christmas Eve?

I see this question on running forums, and I wonder: why do they ask? Doesn't everyone run on Christmas Eve? What would they do otherwise that is more important?!

I love how silent it is in the woods on Christmas Eve. So, yes, just try and stop me from running tomorrow morning. And when all the running is done, the Christmas festivities can commence. Cooking food, drinking glögg, eating food, opening presents (that I got despite the fact that I had been dropping hints, or, rather, saying outright for weeks that I didn't want any) and finally relaxing with a glass of wine, in the best company a girl could ask for.

Now if only I could find my Santa hat...

A simple kind of life

It didn't start very well. I suppose I should get used to it; if I want to go running on tarmac during rush hour then I should be prepared for the sound of traffic drowning out the music I'm trying to listen to. It really doesn't help chanting ”shut up, shut up, SHUT UP” under my breath, nor does it help flipping the bird at the idiotic drivers that don't stop at pedestrian crossings. But it does make me wonder sometimes. I cannot possibly be the only one in the world who thinks that this lifestyle, sitting in a car in an endless queue on the way to work, alone while buses drive back and forth empty, is making us sick as a society? This constant stress that takes over our lives to such a degree that we can't sacrifice two seconds of our precious time to let a pedestrian cross the road? It is the law, after all...

But as soon as I left the traffic and city behind, my mood improved. The slush turned to a thin layer of snow, birds perched on tree branches and I could listen to my music undisturbed. The sun was slowly climbing up in the sky, but it was nowhere to be seen. Everything was grey, but a colour that is so ugly in an urban environment is so beautiful in nature. In nature it's not just a boring, uniform grey; it's all shades between grey and blue. 

Someone had been running where I now was, leaving their traces on the snow. That person wasn't the only living thing leaving traces. I saw hare tracks, dog tracks, and what I suspect was deer tracks. And a lot of horse dung. I was, of course, running near the stables. The horses were nowhere to be seen though.

I concluded my Wednesday long run with a visit to the bakery. On my way home I walked past a school. A little boy stood behind the building crying, all alone. The shouts of the other children in the school yard made it impossible for the teachers to hear this boy. I hurried over to him, as he cradled his right hand in his left and sobbed hysterically. He had slipped on a patch of ice and his hand was bleeding, but the cut didn't seem too deep. He was just scared. I tried to calm him down and walked with him to the front of the school to find a teacher.

The fact that I was there to help this little boy when no one else was around, along with two wonderful hours of easy, effortless running, completely turned my mood around. I almost regret my rude gesture towards the inconsiderate driver earlier. Almost.

I climb too. Kind of.

Has anyone seen my climbing muscles? No? What do you mean, I never had any? Ok, maybe I never had any strong climbing muscles, but I had the potential for them. Now I don't even have that.

Whereas some months ago I was at 6B-level, boldly testing even some 6C and hanging from great heights without the slightest hint of fear of heights, I suddenly find myself confined to 5+. For those of you that have never climbed, a 5+ is for beginners. 6C is the boundary beyond which lies climbing greatness.

Not only do I find it really hard to climb anything more advanced than beginner stuff nowadays, I have also developed an unhealthy fear that I might fall. I'm not worried that I'll fall to the ground. Safety gear is as good as fail proof. No. My fear is that I'll swing horizontally and collide with the wall. This fear and lack of confidence is particularly strong when I'm climbing an overhang or a difficult route. Anything harder than a 5+ in other words. Where, if I pause my ascend for even a second, doubt and tiredness creep into my brain.

The wall has beaten me, thanks to way too many missed climbing sessions. I haven't been so motivated to climb the last few months, J has been injured, pick your excuse. But today I saw this marvellous, beautiful, strong girl climb up that 6B so easily that she might as well have been climbing a ladder. I wanted to be that confident little spider at that moment; to have strong arm muscles and a lean figure that doesn't waste too much energy. I've been feeling heavy, like I've been carrying an extra 100 kg up the wall. No elegance, no style. She, she could have been stuffed with feathers and helium.

So after the Christmas gluttony is over, I'm starting over. Running is great, but the well-shaped shoulders and "pincers" that can grab onto a tiny grip and not start shaking after one second can only be formed by climbing. No more excuses. I'll get back to 6B. Soon.

30 km solo

The trail – among other things- seduced some of my running buddies to cover 38 probably very muddy kilometres. I felt too weak for such a challenge, and worried that my foot would get worse.

So I jumped on the commute train to Kungsbacka for a solo run on asphalt instead. It was eerie at the Liseberg train station this morning. I was almost alone. I had never been there before. It looked like an Underground station.

 

What followed once I got to Kungsbacka and started running surprised me. I held a steady, easy pace, listening to music, lost in my own thoughts and enjoying the wintry scenery – especially the grey sea. Winter is such a bittersweet time of the year. The bare limbs of the trees swayed gently in the wind. Yeah, it was a bit windy (it's Gothenburg after all) and, of course, it was headwind. Luckily it wasn't that strong.

Sorry about the bad quality. Not easy to run and take a picture with your mobile phone at the same time

I arrived at Nordgården, a bakery that is so cosy that you just can't resist buying something that will make your teeth rot and fall out. I loaded my already stuffed rugsack with a loaf of walnut bread, a muffin and a brownie, and started running again.

It was so easy. Except for the ache in my foot and the chronic, whiplash-induced pain in my left shoulder, I felt great, both physically and psychologically. When I was one kilometre from home, having run 29 already, I toyed with the idea of taking a detour and pushing for 35, but I decided to be smart. No need to push my foot to its limits.

A bit stiff, with my breath turning into small clouds as soon as it left my mouth, I got home. Where I shall now celebrate an easy 30 km with a brownie.

My babies are here

Every time I receive a package from the online bookstore, it's like Christmas morning. I open the package carefully, full of anticipation. Although I know exactly what it contains, it always makes me smile to see the actual books there in front of me. The way they smell. Leafing through them. Deciding which one I'll read first.

This particular package contained 8 books. Different genres. All of which I chose carefully for the upcoming Cannonball Read. Some of them were obvious, because I've been reading the author's work for years, others were an effort to try something different:

1. Terry Pratchett, Snuff. I love Pratchett and his sense of humour. He's a prolific writer, but how many books will he have time to write before Alzheimer's disease claims his brain?
2. Stephen King, 11.22.63. I like the way he writes, but his stories can go either way. I've loved some and hated some.
3. Suzanne Collins, Catching Fire. This is the second book in a trilogy (?). It's youth literature, but I found the first book well written.
4. Jeffrey Eugenides, The Marriage Plot. His ”Middlesex” novel is one of my favourites. A great mixture of comedy and drama.
5. Tim Jackson, Prosperity without Growth. This was a bold choice on my part. I prefer my politics and economics in documentary form, because fact books are often very dry. Ok, they're often plain boring. But the subject he writes about is very interesting and I hope that alone will keep me awake.
6. Robert Kirkman, The Walking Dead. Probably my favourite TV-show right now. I had to pick up the graphic novel.
7. Stephen Hawking, Grand Design. As with economics, I prefer my science in documentary form, but I find science a lot more fascinating to read about.
8. Jonathan Franzen, The Corrections. A book a lot of people were talking about a year or so ago.

So there they are. The newest members in the growing pile of books I'll be reading for Cannonball Read. I've already started on the first one I'll be reviewing: ”In defence of food” by Michael Pollan.

In training related news, another round of Ultra Intervals will be taking place on the 11th of February. Should I or shouldn't I? The jury is still out on that one.

Windy morning

You know how they say that Eskimos have 50 different words for snow? People in Gothenburg have 50 different words for wind. It's been windy since September.

I sought the stillness of the forest. My headlamp cast a weak light in the darkness, catching what looked like tiny whirling snowflakes in its beam. The ground was saturated by water, even at places where it's usually dry, protected by the tree canopy above. I was completely alone. 

My foot did not disturb me at all. My thigh muscle, that I had forgotten about when my foot started complaining, apparently felt neglected and started aching again. I have been abusing it a bit; I have been doing some demanding thigh exercises that it didn't like. I ignored it and got home after 10 km. The sun was just starting to rise over the horizon. But of course you wouldn't know it, because it hasn't just been windy. It's been cloudy as well. I just love Gothenburg in the winter.

Heavy legs and good news

December darkness makes me want to sleep much longer than my customary 7 hours. After having slept for more than 8 hours this morning, I grudgingly got up, still tired, just after 5 o'clock. I ate my breakfast in the early-hours silence, then got ready to run to work.

My legs were heavy and every step was a struggle. Still, I somehow managed to cover the 10 km to work and at a decent pace at that. They say that you never regret going out for a run, but you do regret not doing it. I was pretty close to disproving that saying, because it wasn't a fun run. I had to fight for every single metre and I arrived at work exhausted instead of energised. Yet 10 km is a respectable distance to run and I'm glad I did it.

When I got home in the afternoon, I received some good news. I've been wanting to study a sports-related course in the spring and I found one that was really, really interesting. Because of work I can only study distance learning courses. Unfortunately this one was in Malmö and had a few obligatory attendances, which would make it almost impossible for me to take this course. I thought I'd send an email anyway, and ask on which dates these attendances were. Just in case the cosmic deities threw me a bone and they were all on a Wednesday.

As it turns out, the cosmic deities did throw me a bone, although it was a different one than the one I expected. These obligatory attendances are no longer obligatory. So I applied for the course and I'm crossing all fingers and toes that I get accepted. It was a late application, and my only chance to get in is either if the course isn't full, or if an applicant drops out. Wish me luck!

He's brought down the rain and the indian summer is through

A new personal best on the half marathon distance was the result of my efforts this morning. I started off at what I thought was a comfortable pace, increased about midway when I felt that I had strength left, and then finished strong.

That's sea water among the trees

The storm that hit Gothenburg yesterday let up a little this morning, long enough for me to get in these fast 21 km, and before the heavy rain returns this afternoon. The aftermath was evident everywhere: fallen branches, garbage that the sea water had carried to shore, flooded ditches. The wind still came at me from the sea, very strong from time to time, causing me to run leaning to the left to counteract its force. I was almost thrown off the path a couple of times, but thankfully these were just gusts of wind and not the persistent headwind that I've faced before and which wears you out very quickly.

The sea had completely covered some of the walkways

I liked this weather, despite the frustration I felt when I couldn't seem to move forward. A lot of the songs that accompanied me on this run were about summer, and I dreamed of running on dry, sun scorched earth, among hay fields, enveloped by warmth and the scent of pine trees. But it didn't last long. Despite the fact that summer is my favourite season, I'm not sick of this winter yet, although it has done its best to piss me off, what with the constant winds and rain. 

Wild beauty

I was surprised that I got such a good time, as I wasn't really trying to run fast, but rather let my body find its own right speed. Maybe this old body has more strength in it than I think. Or maybe I just had a really good day.

Cannonball read

I don't just run in my free time. I've been known to read books from time to time. Curling up on the sofa with a good book and a cup of tea goes against the essence of an active lifestyle that running provides. But running activates your body; reading activates your mind.

I've been neglecting this pastime for various reasons, none of which are good. They are more like excuses, really. Something needed to be done about that. So I signed up for Cannonball read, a race of sorts, to read and review 52 books within a year. It is organised by Pajiba, film review site extraordinaire, and it starts in January. You can read more about it here.

There is no conceivable way for me to read and review so many books within a year, hold a job and train as much as I do at the same time, so I signed up for the half version. 26 books in a year mean an average of two books per month. That I can handle. I'm looking forward to expanding my literary horizons and picking up some books that I otherwise might not even have glanced at. I've already placed an order for some books that I've been wanting to read for a while.

This is still a running website. Just don't be surprised if a book review pops up from time to time. I might even go completely nuts and review a running related book! Watch this space...

Making do with what I have

I left my brain at home this morning. I woke up at 4.30, packed all my running gear in my backpack, planning on running home in the afternoon, and then put my old, worn-out Saucony on instead of my Dorothies. Why? You ask, perhaps incredulously. Because they were the ones lying in front of me? Because I was only half awake? Is that an acceptable answer or are you already dialling the men in the white coats to come and give me my medication?

I only noticed this as I was stepping on the bus. Cancelling the run was not an option. I mean, I had to get home somehow. I left work wearing the Saucony a few hours later. Was this safe? These shoes were, like, 3 years old! The cushioning is gone! My knees might break! And I'm so terribly out of fashion! My first tentative steps were light and I was so happy to be outside, breathing the cold air. The weather was decent enough (except for the wind. How is it possible that I always have headwind?) I felt the pebbles under my feet. I wouldn't be exaggerating (much) if I said that my shoes almost felt minimalistic. But they worked. They worked for 10 km and took me past cow pastures, sleepy summer cabins and beaches covered in whatever the sea had spat out the night before.

I would be lying if I said that it was a trouble-free run. Just how worn out the shoes were became more and more evident with every shock-induced ache I got in my legs. I don't run like that in my VFF, and I don't get such aches in them. I land a lot more lightly in them. More correctly, even.

I didn't exactly keep to the plan, did I? Last week I wrote that I'd take an easy month, with shorter and less frequent runs. The runs did get less frequent, but instead of getting shorter, they got longer. My last three sessions were at 10 km each and my foot feels fine. That's also a plan! Don't judge me! At least I get a proper day's rest in between runs!

Triumph in the face of adversity

I said snow. I'd like some SNOW. Not ice. Not hail. Snow.

I looked out the window this morning at what I thought were isolated patches of snow, tied my running shoe laces and headed out into the darkness for an extended 10 km run to work. As soon as I stepped out, I saw that it wasn't going to be easy. The ground had turned into an ice rink and what I thought was snow was crystallised ice. I started running carefully but the crystallised ice was easy to run on, because they provided enough friction for my shoes.

But it wasn't like that everywhere. Large areas of the pavement were covered in mirror like, polished ice, and my poor Dorothies found no purchase. Still, I kept my balance, even if my speed was not that great. A teenage girl trying to cross the road on her bicycle wasn't as lucky; the bike skidded across the ice and she fell on her face, and lay there motionless. I ran to her and asked her how she was, hoping that my reflective vest was visible enough for any oncoming cars to see us there in the middle of the road. She slowly got up, obviously shocked but with no signs of injury. She said her leg hurt, but otherwise she was ok. I asked her if she could walk, and she said yes. She thanked me and was on her way. It could have been much, much worse. I ran a little more carefully after that.

I was worried that my speed was so low that I wouldn't make it to work on time. I shouldn't have worried about that, because soon enough I'd have bigger fish to fry. The second half of my run was accompanied by headwind and hailstones pouring down from the sky, whipping my cheeks and fogging up my glasses. At the same time, the street lights went out, although it was still dark. I couldn't see a thing. But strangest thing: I enjoyed every second of it. No, strike that. I loved it.

What's even stranger, but oh so wonderful, was that my foot did not bother me. Not even once.

No more lazy days

Four days of resting and being lazy had exactly zero positive effect on my strained foot. After an 11 km run this morning, my foot was back to where it was the last time I ran, last Tuesday. So what's the point of resting? I might as well keep running as usual.

It didn't build up to it either. It felt strained as soon as I started running, and no matter how relaxed I tried to run, it didn't seem to make much of a difference. At least the rest of my body got up to the task immediately. It was obvious that it had missed running. I'm telling you, so much rest is bad for you! Before I went running, my legs were stiff, my back was aching and I was getting cabin fever. After the run, I was like a new person, full of energy and with all the complaints in my body gone. Well, except for the complaints in my foot.

Strangely enough, I loved the weird weather today. I had strong headwind for the first half of my round, then as soon as I reached the sea and turned towards home I had it on my back. The sea was grey and angry, frothing at the shores. Some lonely rain drops fell from the sky. I thought about the group's ultra session a year ago - Alingsås to Gothenburg. We had snow under our feet then, and -15 degrees on our bare faces.What a difference to today's weather.

A great day, a year ago

I also managed to fit in some vacuum cleaning, washing, shopping and muffin baking in my Sunday. My lazy days are over. Good riddance!

The planets aligned

Sometimes the planets align to create the perfect conditions for running. One day, for example, when you're well-rested, injure-free and full of energy, the sun also happens to be shining. Today was such an occasion. Only the opposite of what I just described. The planets aligned to create the perfect stay-at-home conditions.

I took several days' rest to let my strained foot tendon heal properly. I didn't know how it would feel this morning and if I would go for a run, but just looking out my window when I woke up and at the truly horrible weather outside quickly dissolved any thoughts of leaving the flat. My foot needed the rest and the weather provided an extra reason to resist temptation. And the truth is, I'm completely ok with my decision to have a few lazy days. See how well I deal with restlessness when I don't have a choice?