Frustration

Frustration

Life has a funny habit of kicking you in the teeth, just when you thought that things were finally going your way again. It's quite incredible how one minute the world is your oyster, and the next you can't see yourself ever being happy/satisfied/fulfilled again.

Last time I was full of optimism, and even excitement, at the prospect of stepping up my marathon training, starting with a 10km race I'd enjoyed in previous years. I sit here now without having run for five days, wondering when and indeed if I'll be able to get out there again.

Last Sunday dawned bright and sunny, a beautiful day to get out and run. The 10kms Oviedo-Las Caldas is a well-attended, well-organised race, mainly following the route of a disused railway line, now a popular place to walk/run/cycle, as the incline is gentle and because it passes through beautiful scenery. Las Caldas is a spa town, and the spa itself was restored to its former glory a few years ago, so all told it's a lovely place to visit.

Note the race number, folks...

In previous years the organisation laid on buses before the race from Las Caldas to Oviedo, so I would drive to the finish, get the bus back up and then get in a few kilometres round Oviedo before doing the race itself. This year, however, they decided to only put on buses for after the race, to prevent everybody driving to Las Caldas and swamping the village with traffic. In fact, this backfired on them, and practically everybody just got their family or friends to pick them up at the finish, resulting in a monumental snarl-up.

I drove to the start early to pick up my race number and chip, and then drove home again to relax a bit and get ready for the race in my own good time. I had about 90 minutes for this, as the race wasn't starting till 11:30. When the time came I put on my rucksack (with a small towel, my race vest, vaseline, deodorant, camera and money inside) and ran back up to the start, some 4-5 kms away. It was already warm, but still pleasant.

Once at the start area, I swapped an already-very-sweaty t-shirt for my race vest, applied vaseline to those bits which generally need it (use your imagination), dropped off my rucksack (to be collected at the finish) and made my way to the start. This year we were going to start in a large car park rather than on the path itself - this was always chaos, as it's way too narrow for 900 people - and immediately go up a steep hill, climbing over 30 metres in just 400m. Gulp.

 

There was a hilarious moment just before the gun went. The announcer took it upon himself to start presenting the favourites in the race, and he must have thought they could be identified by dint of their having been given the lowest race numbers. So, first he introduced Number 1, Pelayo Menéndez, who would go on to finish second in a time of 31 minutes dead. He then declared "and...wearing number two..." before somebody whispered in his ear and pointed out that the numbers had largely been handed out at random, and while athlete number two was indeed of an international nature, this was due solely to his passport rather than to any athletic credentials. So he shut up, and said no more. I laughed loudly at this, but of course nobody else had an inkling of what had just happened! 

At 11:30 the gun went and we were off. The hill was nasty and many complaints could be heard as we struggled up it before turning left onto a flat road and then zig-zagging down thrrough the park to join the path.

 

With my new niggly knee, I had promised my physio that I would take his advice and, if not exactly take it easy, at least not push the pace too much. So, of course after the tough start and a second, fast kilometre (3:48) I began to feel as though I was working a bit too hard and eased off into a steady 4:10-4:15 pace, and basically just let the kilometres go by. The only trouble was, I was being passed by all and sundry, including people I should normally wipe the floor with (in a nice way, of course).

Of course, my deciding on this pace was nothing to do with my knee or the physio's advice. The plain truth is that I simply could not be arsed to go any faster, and used the excuse I had ready-made.

I am aware that this is despicable.

I don't actually think that I overtook a single person in the last 6 kms of the race, but at least I kept the pace nice and steady, and found it very easy-going. The village of Las Caldas soon hove into view and the pavements became lined with spectators, so I gathered myself for a final effort and galloped up the 200m hill to the finish, crossing the line in an entirely mediocre 42:31.



"Oh, I can smile about it now, but at the time it was terrible..."

I collected my rucksack, made myself a little more respectable and headed to the bus stop where, in 30 minutes' time, a coach would, in theory, take me back to Oviedo. As mentioned earlier, the whole village was jammed solid, but not only with race traffic. Las Caldas and the surrounding area is a popular destination for walkers, cyclists, people visiting the spas and those simply out for a spot of lunch in the many restaurants, and on a sunny Sunday with temperatures up to 23ºC, even more so. It got so bad that the police had to intervene in order that the coaches, when they arrived, could even get down the street. These coaches came a bit early, but left only half-full - of course: most people had arranged to be picked up.

Las Caldas: the spa itself

 

Las Caldas, before it all got clogged up

The coach dropped us near the start and so I donned my rucksack once more, and ran home. After a good stretch in the sunshine and a nice, long shower once inside, I felt I could get on with my roast chicken, finally...

Not an epic performance by any means, but a decent workout nevertheless, and crucially, more miles clocked up - they all count. And as for the knee, well, it hadn't given me any problems at all.

So, on Tuesday I set out in good spirits to tackle an 11-miler (18kms). The first few miles went by uneventfully but then at about 5 miles (8 kms) to my dismay, my right knee - the good one, this is - suddenly became so painful I had to stop. Appalled, I stretched the leg for a while and as it began to to feel better, decided against going straight home and pressed on. I got to the top of town at about 8 miles (13kms) and still felt all right, so drank from a fountain, stretched a bit more for good measure, and headed homewards. But at 10 miles (16kms), as I descended a short but particualrly steep section of my route, the pain came back and I finally, belatedly, saw sense. I stopped and hobbled dejectedly home.

I got another appointment with Héctor the physio, for the following day, and he refused to be worried - it really was just a strained patellar ligament. Luckily, he informed me, he had just taken delivery of a machine to deal with just such an injury.  I just smiled weakly and hoped - prayed, in fact - that his confidence was justified...and that it wouldn't hurt too much. The treatment is called Percutaneous Electrolysis Therapy.

So he proceeded to stick a needle in me, just below the knee, and start turning up a dial to administer an electrical charge. The idea is that it produce a "controlled inflammation", which in 48-72 hours the body will combat by creating its own defences, thus healing the injury naturally. I should not run till Tuesday, and instead come back on Monday to see how it's looking. Meanwhile, I have to do 3 sets of 10 single leg squats twice daily.

I have no choice but to go along with this. In fact, I am happy to do so. I can focus on other things: sleeping better (the secret: drinking less...who knew?), eating well, reading, watching films and series, doing housework (yes, really)...going to the football with friends - anything, in fact, rather than go running - and it's only a matter of  a few days. Isn't it?


There are other things in life, apart from running. Watching Real Oviedo is just one of them

What I don't want, though, is to lose a week's training while hanging around doing nothing, then come back only to find the injured area is no better. So, as I say, that diagnosis had better be the correct one...

So, we'll see, then. I'm actually quite calm at the moment, and enjoying the down time. Inexplicably, I've lost weight, too, although how long that continues remains to be seen! 

Next time I hope I have better news for you both...er, I mean, for you all. In the meantime, thanks ever so much for reading, and please, stretch and generally look after your body - just think about how much it looks after you!

Bye for now!


Frustration