On Attitudes and “Progress”

I had a conversation with someone very recently that made me see them - and myself* - in a whole new light.

First, some background (skip if you like).

Strava, the app/ site I use to log my rides and measure my progress, has a couple of things that I really like in terms of motivation:

1. Social aspect - people can give you "Kudos" (basically a thumbs-up) for a ride/ run (I don't do running) and can leave comments. It's a whole thing. I like both giving and receiving kudos, and sometimes I comment on "I ran really badly"-labelled activities with "Maybe, but you did run."

2. Comparison on "segments" - people can set up either public or private segments so you can check to see how you do on certain sections of a road/ track/ whatever against the average person/ your gender/ your age group (well, those in that demographic who use Strava, anyway).  More importantly - to me - you can compare how you do against yourself, and each time you do a segment faster than before, you get a new personal record (PR), complete with tiny, virtual gold medal.

You can set up the app so that, while it's recording your current progress live, it will read out to you which segment you're on and - if you've done it before - what your current PR is for that segment.  It'll also tell you how you're doing when you're halfway.  (If you've never done it before, it'll tell you the overall best from other people - I generally ignore this.) I, personally, especially for commuter runs, would prefer it to announce what my average time is, so that I can tell how I'm doing for getting to work. But hey - if I tell them, maybe they'll make that available as a option.

Background done.

So yesterday, on the way to work, I had some tailwind.  The prevalent wind in (my part of) Cambridge is generally in the opposite direction, so it's nice not to be fighting my way into work. (On the other hand - more of a slog getting home; oh well.)  The Strava Lady announced that I was starting the 0.2 mile "Milton Road Buslane start to Milton Arms sprint" (I didn't name this) segment.  I was whizzing along by this point - good tailwind, no randoms crossing in front of me and slowing me up; it was all good; maybe today was the day...  I got to halfway, and she said "halfway: ahead by 7 seconds." Ooh! I'd somewhat resigned myself to not beating my 1:06 PR for at least the next few months, and I thought: it's today! Come on! And behold - I beat my previous PR by 8 seconds.  That's a 12% decrease, right? Considering the all-time recorded time on Strava for this segment is 31 seconds, I doubt the leaderboard are crapping themselves, but it means there's room for improvement (if I ever get a tailwind again/ do continue to get stronger and faster through the training).

So far so nice start to the day.

So then I get talking to a non-cyclist. I tell them the "it told me I was 7 seconds ahead so I pummelled it and beat my personal best! Yay!" story and... they didn't share my jubilation.

Their opinion was that I'd done it wrong: "So, instead of coasting for 7 seconds, you pummelled it? That was a mistake - you'll never beat that."

At the time, I just felt puzzled (and, okay, mildly deflated).

This morning, with a milder tailwind, and tired from a dodgy night's sleep, I heard the announcement of the start of the sprint on my earphones, and gave it a medium amount of welly, wondering how close I'd get to the previous day's PR, but not too bothered either way.  And I got to thinking about that conversation. It occurred to me that it spoke a lot about both my general attitudes to life (when the wind's behind you, really go for it!) and theirs (you don't want to push harder when things are going well...).  I've not entirely finished thinking about this (hence post), but it seems to me that this is something about ambition, goal-setting, and where effort is best placed.

I consider myself still "in development" - I likely will until I'm in my 90s, at least.  There's lots of things I don't know and can't do yet, but I've not given up on all of them (okay, still working my way up to swimming - shush). Generally, nowadays, while cycling, I push to at least 80% maximum effort - whether or not I'm  running on time/ late for/ early for my next appointment/ there is no appointment. I've not only changed my body, but I've changed my mind about how long it takes me to get from one place to another, and how long a distance I can actually do.

So I think that "let's just fucking do this, and do it hard" is a great way to get further faster. To progress. But that's only important if what you want to do is progress - which, to my mind, means: do it faster, better, stronger - and if you don't, if you want to maintain your current position, that's a different approach, and a different set of priorities.

At the moment, I'm not strong enough to overcome the underlying bullshit that is HMS/ EDS. So I need to progress on that front. And my (artistic) career isn't where I want it to be, so progress needs to be made. Maybe my friend is in exactly the place they want to be.  Or maybe something's scaring them about the notion of moving on, and I think - if that's the case - it's more likely to be fear of success than fear of failure. And I think I could learn a lot from my simple attitude to fitness, and apply this to other parts of my life. There's places I want to be, and I need to be taller to get there...

---

*Yes, that's a correct** use of the reflexive.

**one of the few

Progress and Technology

Hello!

Well, it's been a while, but I thought I'd give you an update.  Preferably one nothing to do with slightly scary mental health stuff.

So today I'll be talking about:

1. Training for the Sport Relief 2016 Challenge (sponsor me here)
2. Technology
3. General Health stuff

1. Training for the Sport Relief 2016 Challenge

This has been less fun that it could be - partly because I got ill between Christmas and New Year, and could (fairly) directly attribute that to going out on a training ride late in the day, getting cold with an exercise-induced lowered immune system, and then, instead of going straight home, went to the shop for food (a move that seemed logical at the time) where clearly some infectious bastard breathed on me. Garh

So what with having funtimes with breathing, then injuring myself (minor standard neck/ shoulder stuff), then the winds being insanely strong, I somehow let training drift into a puddle of excuses. I was still cycling pretty much everywhere (work, social engagements in Cambridge, choir rehearsals, anything where I didn't need to tote much gear) else, but no particularly challenging distance.

And then I checked my magical spreadsheet, which showed me that I only had a few weeks to go, and that I'd spent nigh-on two months not training. Eeeep! Instead of a steady increase of ≤½ mile every session, I was going to have to jump up more emphatically each time, especially if I stepped back to a shorter distance to kick back off again (because, despite being foolish, I do learn - slowly - from my past mistakes with exercise).

Mon 28-Dec-15: 16.4 miles, 1:39:32 hours (64% of end goal)



Wed 24-Feb-16: 10.1 miles, 0:57:14 hours (39% of end goal)



Sun 28-Feb-16: 12.6 miles, 1:11:38 hours (49% of end goal)



Sun 6-Mar-16: 15.5 miles, 1:29:16 hours (60% of end goal)



Wed 9-Mar-16: 17.7 miles, 1:41:25 hours (69% of end goal)



I am still aching after this last one (cold, damp, mizzly, long; an exercise in self-discipline/ persuasive self-talk), and currently wondering two things:

a) How much of a percentage of the end goal should I aim for?

b) Should I do a training cycle on the Wednesday before the Sunday 20th ride, or am I better off having a rest (apart from work cycling) that week?

2. Technology

After agonising over gadgets, I found the one that was the best fit: a FitBit Charge HR. Of all the things that I wanted an activity tracker to do/ be, it only doesn't do one of them: GPS tracking. On the other hand, it (along with its concomitant app) does everything else, and things I didn't even know I wanted it to do (and some other things - like calorie counting - that I'm resolutely ignoring).  It's good at working out when I've been cycling for short stretches, but the longer ones confuse it, so I have to manually record them, which isn't exactly taxing.

It's proving useful for helping me keep track of (and manage by increasing) my water intake, gamifying my fitness efforts, and it looks slinky on my wrist (it functions as an actual watch as well).

It's also proving useful during anxiety - it turns out that the thumping heart sensations are often misleading: my heart-rate will rise slightly, but not anything like as much as it feels. This is proving remarkably helpful in swift calming and fending off potential full-blown attacks.

And I've bought a fancy water bottle that's easy to carry around work (I saw someone else with one and desired it greatly), means I don't use up lots of plastic cups (yay environment), and measures much more precisely how much I've drunk during the day at work/ during cycle rides.

3. General Health stuff

I am generally well. However, my hip joints (especially my right one) are not. I have been mostly ignoring this and trying to find comfortable positions, but the "it's reliably achey by 10pm" rule has shifted to "it's reliably achey all the damned time and difficult to bear by 10pm".  And now the right one keeps going out of alignment when I get up from a chair and start walking. Unfun. So I need to go and see someone about this.  Sadly, my former physiotherapist has now retired, so I will need to begin the Quest for a Local Physiotherapist Who Actually Understands HMS/ EDS all over again, though armed with more knowledge than last time I started.

My lower left-hand back aches reliably after about 6-7 miles of continuous cycling; less if hills are involved.  I've been advised that I need to get my posture on the bike checked and the bike's setup amended by experts.  As in all things requiring experts, this is not cheap.  If it prevents some further physiotherapy sessions, mind, it'll be worth it.

I forgot to renew my gut medication prescription last week.  This will NEVER HAPPEN AGAIN.  I have come to rely on not being in constant abdominal agony - turns out I'm on PPIs for life. A small price to pay unless, of course, the NHS is dismantled. O_o

I'm beginning to see why people with my condition (especially those with more severe versions) get into a cycle of morphine use.  I'm still avoiding even paracetamol unless my neck's particularly bad and I want to sleep (and nothing I've got touches migraines, so there's no point there either), so we'll see how long I can keep this straight-edge attitude to pain management up...


Thanks for reading so far! :D More updates to come, more frequently and smaller, especially in the run-up to the Sunday 20th challenge. Did I mention that you can sponsor me...?! :D

Sometimes it's difficult. That’s okay

#TimeToTalk 

Last weekend I had a panic attack. It wasn’t a particularly bad one, putting aside the fact that they’re all, you know, horrible. I mean, no concept with either of those words in it is nice.  Even writing this out has made me super-aware of my heartbeat, the way it fists on my breastbone; my breath, the way those accelerating swells bind me into my clothing. And how, okay, that’s a good thing, but it doesn’t stop. It just doesn’t stop. And the heat’s rising, that very particular sensation at my temples and if I lift my fingers I’ll see them trembling and my skin is tingling and...

Breathe out. Slowly.

Butitsallhappeningitsallmybodyrevoltingallthoughtschiming

Breathe in. Slowly.

CaughtinsomethingthatIcantescapebecauseitsmeandwhywontitstop

It stopped before. You mastered this. You have enjoyed your body’s good reactions to challenge. You will inhabit it happily again.

Nonononononono!

Yes. Yes. Yes.

Before all that, it turns out, is something like a migraine aura. I caught a whiff of it, running late for a gig in what turned out to be an impossible-to-breach venue once everyone else had gone inside.

“I’ll power through it, distracted by the entertainment and my pride in my friends’ achievements...”

Wandering alone around deserted-looking buildings in the dark, in a quiet and imposing part of town is no-one’s favourite. Certainly not mine. Well, sometimes. But not that night. And knowing I was on the verge of panic was a mixed blessing, let me tell you. So I made my way back to my bike in the freezing cold and called everyone I trusted who I thought might be available. Luckily for me, someone finally answered, and I was able to talk to someone who wasn’t going to judge me, tell me what to do, or ask me a ton of unhelpful questions. They said:

“I can do whatever you need - either let you talk or tell you what works for me or blather to distract you.”

Right there, teetering one-footed on the edge of desperation, I chose for me to talk, then them to distract me. Once it was clear to me that I was only rehearsing the panic that had led me there rather than actually purging it, I asked to swap roles. Then I sat down, caressing the icy, fake cobbles of the ground around the bike stands. I imagined the heat of sun-warmed rock beneath my trembling fingers, and I listened to my friend talk, uncondemning and measured, and then they moved onto a topic close to both of our hearts that was also not a burden to me and I felt myself uncoiling, there on pitiless concrete, softening into the circle of a hug from 50 miles away.

Thank you. You know who you are.

I spent the next two days poisoned with adrenalin and its fallout. I treated myself very carefully. I was as assertive as I could be about my needs. I supported people making and performing art. I was lovely. I was tired. I was present. I was fed and watered and wonderful and happy and so, so tired.

So I’ve learned some things from this:

1. You can feel the panic aura as it approaches.  This is useful; very useful to know.

2. These things work:

a) Recognising and putting boundaries on it before it gets going properly.

b) Phoning someone you trust, if you can’t get physically to someone you trust.

c) Sitting down and touching the ground, no matter where you are.

d) Talking yourself down using a kind of loving dissociation.

e) Eating hot chicken soup once the main freak-out is passed.

f) Talking about it so that you can remember all the people saying “that sucks, poor you” rather than “get away from me, freak!”

g) Remembering.

3. My friends are even more awesome than I already thought they were.

4. I can ask for help.

5. If I go for a week of short/ crap sleeps I lose my shit.

I hope this has been useful for any of you. It’s been scary and useful for me – both the writing and the sharing.

Be well, lovely folk.

Some advice about brain weasels

Or: what to do when you’ve started the day with negative emotions...

More of my friends are adopting the “brain weasel” nomenclature than I would have, perhaps, anticipated. This makes for quite efficient conversations:

“My brain weasels are loud today...”
“Tell ’em to sod off, the little buggers.”

“Sorry: I have brain weasels today.”
“No worries - let me know if you’d like to meet up later...”

Today someone was able to use the term to let me know that they were having a difficult morning. Then they asked: did I have any advice?  Turns out that... yes. I rattled off a pretty decent list. Revised version below, because I thought it might be useful to others:

Help! I’m in work and the brain weasels are snapping. What can I do?

Thing is, you can’t exactly go back to bed, can you? So here are some work-compatible things to do:

1. Maslow it - drink more water (go and do that right now), eat well, ensure you feel safe/ physically comfortable in your environment.


2. Adrenalin seems to mute them. Maybe go for a brisk trundle at lunchtime. If something more strenuous is an option, maybe consider that...


3. Listen to (powerful, strong, happy, or positively defiant) music. Plug it in, baby!


4. Pick a thing (it can be absolutely tiny) and do it well today. That often shuts them up. If it works, do another one. Rinse, repeat. One step. Then the next. The day is over. You won.


5. Treat them like a belligerent fundamentalist/ troll* - when you answer their snide little accusations, they’ll switch tack. You can choose to ignore them or refute every argument. Both approaches take energy, but ignoring/ refuting also demonstrates control, which giving in and admitting they’re right (they’re not) does not (it also saps energy, but builds no strength).
   
   Think of this like physical health:


1. If you exercise, it’s hard work at first and hurts, but less work long-term, because you have a fitter body to carry you around in.


2. If you either go into to denial or decide that you’re determined to beat an illness, you’re WAY more likely to than if you just meekly give in. Hardiness for the win.

A favourite refutation I came up with recently was when I was trying desperately to find something, brain foggy and starting to hyperventilate, and the weasels said: “Hah! You’ve lost it! You’re rubbish! You don’t know where it is!” and I found myself saying: “Yeah? If you’re so much bloody** better than me, you can tell me where it is then! No? Then shut the hell** up! From now on, you’d better prove you’re actually better than me any time you try this nonsense, or you forfeit all right to bloody** criticise me!”

I won’t deny it - that did feel good...! :)


6. In my experience/ opinion, comfort blankets DO NOT WORK. They will just give the metaphysical rodents more ammunition. So do something challenging you know you do well; don’t resort to sugar/ caffeine/ alcohol/ Facebook/ mobile phone games, etc.


7. Find someone pleasant to talk to who has the time and energy for you. Don’t feel you have to talk about your problems, but do talk about stuff you like as well as stuff you don’t like.


8. Make a plan for the evening that involves healthy behaviour (exercise, good food, early night, helpful social time, etc. - even if all that happens is you go to bed early out of all of those, making a plan and executing it will feel excellent and tell those pernicious, furry idiots off good and proper)

And that’s it, really. Obviously you may not be able to do more than one or two of these in a work day (though 1, 2, 4, and 8 are pretty feasible!), but it’s a start... :D I’m thinking of printing a simple version of this out and putting it somewhere prominent for when I feel like I’m having/ about to have a bad day myself... Any further suggestions?


______________________________
*fundamentalists come in all forms - pick your poison, it’s not all religious

**The language was a lot worse than that - swearing is very energising, if you’re me...

Today is the first day...

... of the rest of the working year.

(I appreciate that some of you may have worked between 24th December and today - sorry about that! I, however, have not. Benefits of working for an academic-related organisation, I guess...)

So! :) How’s it been going for you lot? Me, I’ve been powering through the day on rampant optimism and a renewed determination to prove to myself that I am a worthwhile human being (I have had too little broken sleep - more about this in another post, I suspect). In fact, that’s the core of my “resolution” for this year - basically: feel better about myself.

Obviously there are various different elements to this (i.e. pretty much every aspect of my life! :)), but for each one I do actually know what I need to do, I’ve just not always been doing it. So, in order to inspire myself, I reckon I just need to keep that clear “feel better about myself” goal in front of me every time I find myself wussing out and cutting corners. Because when I work at doing things right, I feel better about myself.
 
Ludicrously simple; diabolically difficult.
 
I’m not a big fan of New Year’s resolutions. I generally start on projects/ changes/ movements that look like them in December, when it’s dark, and miserable, and cold, partly to prove to myself that you don’t need a set date to kick off Doing Stuff Right, just a good mindset. Sometimes I start them in April, or February. Or on a Thursday or something. Because I know that if I keep waiting for some kind of perfect kick-off signal, I’ll keep on finding excuses.
 
I have a narrow line to walk here - let me introduce you to the brain weasels (I’m not going to dignify them with title case): they represent the snarly, snide, tricksy little bits of me that are always looking for reasons to put me down. They say tiny, mean things - their sharp, narrow teeth and sinuous forms are slippery and insistent. They are composed of fear and are like handy little pocket abusers - you may even have left the originals behind, but they’ve sowed tiny, portable, conveniently-sized memes to take with you everywhere. (I’m sure you know the kind of thing they like to say: you’re not good enough, you’re a failure, you’re a disappointment.) They snigger every time you trip or drop things or run late. And I do those things a lot... They represent the opposite of “you are a worthwhile human being”.

They’re wretched little bastards and they need to be stopped. Or, okay, well, transmuted somehow.
 
The ways to beat brain weasels need to be as multitudinous and flexible and cunning and (nearly as) small as they are. Because the more you give in to their assertions about your worth, the more you’ll give up putting effort into doing stuff right, and the more fodder there’ll be for their grindy little teeth. I’ve seen this negative spiral demonstrated very clearly in my physical health, and it’s all too evident in my mental health, if you know where to look.  I want to get a series of positive spirals going - feel better, do better, feel better, do better, feel better, do better, feel better, do better...
 
What’s the narrow line? Well, years of playing host to the weasels has left me with some difficult-to-repurpose mental constructs in which the furry little gits flourish. And one of them is where I find it really, really difficult to take compliments. Because I may know fine well that the weasel runs are ridiculous, and that they make me miserable, but I’m used to them, see? They’re home. They’re where I’m comfortably miserable.  So the more loudly people are nice to me, the less I can take it. I get so overwhelmed with this enthusiastic evidence that at least part of me looks dramatically different to the Worthless Map of Fay (© Weasel Enterprises) that I throw up as many big walls as I can to stave off the information overload. Go too far and I cry and shake and run away. Literally. It’s messy.

Slowly I’ve been working on my anti-weasel techniques. I’m being scientific about it, which means being better at spotting both negative and positive patterns, instead of taking either states for granted or treating them as neutral. I have learned that the following things are particularly good at helping silence/ squish weasels:

1. Walking. Anywhere, at any time. But it needs to be fast/ vigorously. At my own pace, anyway. 
    
2. Dancing. Stomp on their little heads! Drown them with music! Okay, maybe just stun them into submission and muffle their annoying squeaks to the occasional half-hearted “you’re too old to be doing this!” (Yeah, I’m manifestly not, so shut up! :D) 
    
3. Hosting performances. You’d think that the nerve-wrackingness of this and the massive potential for tripping up (Get the names wrong! Stutter! Offend someone accidentally!) along with opportunities for jealousy would be fodder for the invisible shit-stirrers, but somehow: no. I enjoy the performances too much to be jealous, and frankly, when you’re running an event, you have no time for weasels. 
    
4. Spending time with particular friends. You know the type - diverting yet supportive as appropriate. Also: the wider I allow my network to be, the better my chances of spending time with people whose personal styles will fit the mode I need to be in. And the less chance of the weasel who says “you’re just a burden to your friends!”  
    
5. Properly singing something I know well. There’s a pattern emerging. 
    
6. Spreadsheeting. Doing something both systematically and creatively. It’s something I have developed good... wait... excellent, expert skills in, and it’s something I can sit quietly and nerd out over.

The answer appears to be: do things irrefutably well with good people. Keep pushing at (sometimes tiny) increments of What Could Be Even Better so that the evidence for being worthwhile mounts manageably. Get the adrenalin flowing. Allow meaningful connections with other humans. Demonstrably build up the ability to be more awesome.

It’s not about comfort blankets (because the more moping/ eating crappy food/ taking a taxi rather than cycling/ playing dumb computer games I do, the worse I feel) but about strapping in tightly before heading off towards the horizon, laughing uproariously and whooping at the steep bends.

So I will be giving myself tiny compliments. Every day. Not ignoring the bad stuff (because weasels loooove it when you’ve got stuff you’re procrastinating over - oh my yes!), but aiming for the kind of objective approach I’d use with someone who isn’t me. And also coming up with ways to improve things.  In other words, I’ll be running a Lessons Learned on my life. Every day, if I can, no matter how vestigially, sometimes.

And, in the meantime: getting fitter, having more fun, and being more awesome, a bunch of which I’ll be posting on here. :)

Sums it up...

I love this comic sooo much. This time they nailed starting a new exercise regime. :D

The Aftermath

This needs to be made clear - I am very happy right now. Okay, it's my birthday and the sun has been shining its arse off in crisp, blowy weather - exactly how I like it. Okay, I now have an actual window seat in work that overlooks anything other than a grimy roof. Okay, I've helped Sport Relief to raise nearly £1000...

But I'm knackered, and constantly hungry - like persistently starving hungry today. And there is no musculoskeletal part of my lower body that does not ache, that doesn't stiffen into vicious immobility if I sit a bit wrong for longer than a few breaths.

And yet.

And yet I can't stop smiling. And yet I'm not being a total sap either - if people come to me with unnecessarily annoying bullshit, I politely, smilingly, do not take it. And yet everything feels like something either small, or fun, or a challenge I am looking forward to spanking. And, despite feeling pretty fuzzy in the head, at the same time it's like I'm seeing people very clearly.

If I stop, I'll fall over. I'm quite sure of that and am looking forward to it immensely. The six hours' sleep I had this morning were some of the best I've had in a long time.

How did I do? Well, I got all the way around (and around) Milton Country Park just fine, ta. The track turned out to be 1.45 miles long, which made calculating difficult. (It also adds a new perspective to the "struggled 1 mile two years ago" thing, now I come to think of it; it was nearly 50% longer!) I had some company along the way after all (possibly because I'd said before that I probably wouldn't), which was particularly heroic on their part as both of them had done the 5km swim the day before. Ellie ducked out after 3 goes round (fair enough with an undisclosed chipped ankle!) and Emma trudged on with me for another revolution, a swift sit-down, and a sneaky wriggle up the middle of the circuit, so that we ended up doing 6.25 miles (according to Google Tracks) in total. It took just under 2 hours, what with the pausing to take photos, the pausing to let actual runners past (and cheer them on), the toilet break, and the aforementioned swift sit-down (long enough to do me good, not long enough to get stuck).

(And then I had to drive home, via Emma's house, wrestle the car seats back up (buggering my neck/ shoulder again - a shame), tidy and clean the house, pack the car, drive to the venue, take part in a poetry workshop, watch other people insist on setting up the space (:D), run a show, pack up, take crew and features home, chat a lot of interesting stuff about poetry and accents and poets and language and training and poets and accents and women and poets and PhDs and poets and accents and dear God 1am, hi there...

Long day.)

How'm I doing physically? 

Well, my knees are surprisingly buoyant - certainly no worse than they've been in the past due to prolonged standing (which, if you remember, I did a fair amount of on Saturday), and do not appear to be swollen, which is nice. :)  Similarly, the soles of my feet are uncomplaining.  However, my ankles are surprisingly achey (this may well have been to do with the constantly-changing, bumpy, humpy, muddy, potholed terrain) and my lower back is disappointingly sore.  The most surprising set of aches is in my abdominal muscles - kind of interesting... And I want to eat everything. All of it.

What went well? 

The time spent on the walk was good - could have been shorter, but maybe it wouldn't have been if I'd pushed faster earlier...  I didn't start to feel the walk badly in my legs until about 4-5 miles in, and then pushed through the remaining distance. I did rest when I really, really needed to. I didn't run out of puff. The distraction of friends helped even more than I would have thought possible. I hydrated well (knowing that I would have somewhere to go if I'd hydrated too well!), and fuelled myself with morning porridge. I did my physio beforehand, but had rested generally, doing no weight-bearing exercise, the whole week before. And I was assertive about not standing throughout the concert the evening before, and tried my best to eat and drink well (lots of (particularly raw) vegetables, high fibre, as little refined sugar as possible, loads of water) during the week.

Oh, and I raised a bundle of cash. If you've not sponsored, you can do so at http://my.sportrelief.com/sponsor/fayroberts :)

What could have been better? 

Well, controversially, I think I could have done with some non-weight-bearing but vigorous exercise in the preceding week. If when I do this kind of thing again, I think I'll benefit from the rush of achievement of vigorous exercise in the run-up to something scary like this, as well as keeping up momentum on happy muscles and good bloodflow.  While I stood up less than I could have done the night before, I still did a lot of standing, and my sleep levels were rubbish that week (another case for more aerobic exercise?!). Also: while I rallied towards the end of the week, my diet wasn't exactly stellar during the preceding few days.

What next? Well, firstly I need to see how the recovery actually goes (update 25-Mar-14 - my knees are actually starting to hurt quite badly now; bugger), and I want to know more about this next-day euphoria and confidence. Have you run a (half-)marathon or 10k? Climbed a massive hill? Cycled to France or something? Is it like this? Or should I be looking at some other factors? Like the sleep deprivation, for example. Because yesterday was brilliant, and I feel like I could do with more of that, if my knees can survive it.  And I need another challenge - another milestone on this path of Being Fitter.  Any suggestions gratefully received, and I'm going to get some instruction from the gym in a few weeks' time, once I'm back in the mode, asking for some extra goals...

So thanks for the props, everyone, and yes: this blog will go on (though perhaps less frequently until I have a new Big Goal) as I continue to chart my relationship with my body, fitness, pain, and recovery...

Little Victories #4

I'm trying to make a lifestyle change here, and that means changing habits of thought as well as upgrading physical function. This tag will record those little moments of triumph that make me proud.

Turns out I can run. Not the panting, stammering, begging, leaden-legged, giving-up-before-I've-even-started stumble that I used to do, even recently, that was barely more than an effortful version of my current Very Fast Walk (~4mph). Properly run (briefly).

Today I was late. This does not distinguish it from many other days, but it makes it more difficult when it's a Sunday train to London you're after - they do tend to run both on time and infrequently. Six bits of fortune aided me: actually clear roads from my house to the station; an available and willing (and lovely!) partner to drive me there; the sheer number of times I've got the train to London hence knowing what to do very rapidly at the ticket machine; no queue for said machine; the train running 1 minute late; it leaving from the nearest platform to the entrance.

And then running. I'd done a lot of walking the day before (more on that later in another post), so wouldn't have expected this, but, on clearing the dawdlers, I saw the train and started sprinting, cleared the open doors in a neat leap just after the whistle blew, then sauntered to an empty seat.

I'm still confused - this was a flat-out sprint, carrying a medium-heavy bag of several kilos (I rarely underpack), wearing my Big Boots (0.45kg each, fact fans), and yet I feel no pain (above the baseline, come on now), was not out of breath, and my heartrate barely registered any rise (i.e. must have settled very quickly).

Could it be that all the cardio stuff on the stationary bike (up to 20 minutes continuously, by means of coaxing "go on, another 30 seconds at this resistance level, you might as well"), the faster walking everywhere, further and more frequently, the stairs rather than the lift, the better eating leading to losing a crucial few pounds of unnecessary fat, and the continuous working on my conviction that I can get better and fitter and stronger (from myself, my friends, my colleagues, and my physio) have tipped me into actually being fitter?

It's a tantalising notion, and one that I'm very willing to entertain. The trick now, I suspect, will be to maintain this as my baseline, and build.

And after next Sunday, I'm going to need a new goal... :)