Bye bye 2014

Ah. The last day of the year. The day when we look back at how miserably we have failed to do all those things we promised we would do for our New Year's resolutions. The day before we make new resolutions, and this time it will be different. Suuure it will. And I have some prime swampland in Florida to sell you.

I don't remember what my resolutions were. To stop getting injured maybe? Well, we all know how that went. A runner's knee that could have been prevented if -you guessed it – I had been a bit smarter about my training. But being smart about my training might mean training less, and then I would have missed out on some awesome stuff:

There is no such thing as bad weather

This post was inspired by C, one of my best friends and fellow runner.

Skellefteå was hit by a cold front a few days ago, which made temperatures plummet and snow pour down from the sky. But, seeing as this is the last weekend of the year, and weekends mean long runs, I didn't let the weather stop me. I wanted to see if my knee could cope with a proper long run to end 2014 with. One over 20km. It could, and it did. Yey!

Contrasts

Thousands of miniscule shimmering disco balls poured down from the sky. I ran at a comfortable pace towards what should have been a sunrise but what was instead a wall of dark grey. I didn't mind. The road was lined by thick forest, interrupted only occasionally by country houses, and my steps were soft on the fresh snow. I wasn't the only one to greet this turn of weather with glee: birdsong broke through the otherwise all-encompassing morning silence.

I had gotten up at stupid o'clock, had eaten a way too early breakfast and had faced the dilemma: should I run by myself now or wait a few hours and run with AIK? I chose the first, partly because I can be very impatient when I have to wait for fun things to happen and partly because I figured I could then come home earlier and get on with other fun activities.

I get knocked down but I get up again

Last night I went skiing. I skied for a while. Then I must have thought it was getting boring with all that standing upright and getting some exercise and everything, so I fell down to mix things up a little. Even though I'm such a expert skier nowadays that I only fell down once, I am apparently also an expert at injuring myself (shocking, I know) and I twisted my thumb when I inadvertly landed on my ski pole. 

This is an old picture and those are some old skis. I now obviously own expert skis.

Because I'm stupid hardcore, I immediately jumped up and continued skiing. I can be quite reserved and don't like drawing attention to myself by, say, screaming in agony. I mean, other skiers might then have heard me and tried to help me! Better to save myself some embarrassment and pretend that nothing happened.

Back on (single) track

This could have easily been one of those runs that make me want to sing (inwards, of course. Not outwards. I don't want to get evicted and/or involuntary committed to the mental hospital). The only thing stopping me was the constant worry that I might slip on a root or that my knee might not make it. Otherwise, all the ingredients that make for a delicious winter run were there: great company, fresh snow, undulating terrain and a pair of legs as excited to go out and play as a little puppy.

Oh, and some warm mulled wine afterwards. Strictly speaking, not a part of the run itself, I'll admit. But - all scientific evidence agrees - a very important part of the recovery phase afterwards.

Our coach had informed us beforehand that it was to be a short run, about an hour long and mostly on terrain. My plan was to try and run 15 km, an increase by one km since last week. My knee responded to last week's increase so well, I thought I'd push its limits just a little further. I drove up to the hockey arena some 40 minutes before we were to meet, left the car in the parking lot and started running.

Leaps and bounds

After the end of a strange work week, when – among other strange things – I accepted an offer for a new job, I came home and collapsed on a chair. This was to be the first weekend in ages when I had absolutely nothing planned except to read a lot and drink buckets of hot beverages. I like having plans on weekends, but they don't usually leave me as well-rested and eager to get back to work on a Monday morning as having a chance to get bored. Not that I'm ever eager to get back to work. Less openly hostile maybe? Yeah, let's go with that.

I did have a little plan for this Friday evening though. I had complained to my chiropractor that I can only run 10 km before my knee starts acting up and getting stiff, and he advised me to add another 10 km run in my week instead of increasing the amount of kilometres on any particular run. So, naturally, I thought: ”Wouldn't it be great if I could run 14 km?” and – after a lot of hesitation because it was Friday after work and I was tired and lazy and it was snow-slushy outside and windy and dark and I'd rather be reading my Stephen King with a hot beverage in my hand and there was no one to give me a kick in the butt – I did just that.