Back in the Saddle

Blimey. It’s been over a year since I last updated this. So what’s happened in the World of Fay Health & Fitness since then?

1. Injured myself at home on the actual day of that event. Foolishly. Luckily, it’s a neck injury I’d had before, so this time I didn’t piss around, got hold of a physiotherapist (my old one having semi-retired), and got into a bunch of new, neck-related exercises.
    
2. After recovering from foolishness, continued to do lots of cycling, but just back on a daily, get-everywhere-I-don’t-need-to-transport-gig-gear/people kind of way.
    
3. Got back into mat exercises - press-ups, crunches, planks - plus the fun addition of chin-ups, courtesy of a bar you can slot above the doorframe (and a stack of books to stand on, because I’m not that tall (despite being tall for a poet), and our house is old, so the ceilings - and therefore doorframes - are high).
    
4. Went to the Edinburgh Fringe in August to take part in the usual shenanigans, which, from a health perspective, involved:
   
   Positives: a bunch of weight-lifting (hauling my crap up six flights of stairs virtually single-handedly as my flatmate had a hernia); walking 2-3 miles/ day up and down a very steep hill (luckily, I lived at the bottom of the hill), sometimes more if I had to go home and change between shows; continuing with the daily physio exercises and the twice-a-week, more hench mat exercises.
   
   Negatives: bad/ little sleep; the usual dehydration and when-the-fuck-do-I-eat issues leading to a little weight loss; abundant and often unnecessary stress (necessary stress I can deal with).
    
5. On the final couple of days had a troubling cough and sore throat, which I powered through on sheer adrenalin and stubbornness, which transmuted into a cold as soon as I started the long drive home through the night.
    
6. Cold turned into a chest infection and laryngitis, and then… and then I couldn’t speak, sing, or anything vocal, couldn’t bend over to pick things up, couldn’t lie down flat, couldn’t eat much, was constantly coughing and had chest pains and stomach pains, and then the bit where my throat kept closing off, stopping my breathing, all of which made sleep difficult.
    
7. I lost a LOT of weight. And no-one seemed to know what was wrong. Everything hurt, everything made me cough, and the only thing I’d ever relied on my whole life - my voice - was gone. And no-one seemed to know beyond a shrug whether it would ever come back.
   
   I pushed on through work, though had a lot of sickness leave, including after a trip to A&E (waking up in the middle of the night entirely unable to breathe and retching mucus) when I was signed off for a couple more weeks after I’d only just got back to work.
   
   As you can imagine, my mental health took a steep and long fucking dive. And even the physio exercises were out for a long time because of the aforementioned not being able to lie down flat, so my joints started to suffer in a major way. I slept (hell: I lived) on the sofa for about three months for fear of waking everyone constantly with the coughing and the terrifying choking noise that happened every time I dropped into proper sleep, even when propped up perpendicularly. It was bad enough that I wasn’t sleeping…
   
   It was horrible. And then there was the (thankfully apparently a clerical error?!) cancer scare.
    
8. Slowly my voice returned to something that was at least audible (though it’s currently fucked again - yay) as I learned what I can eat and not eat (I’m even more limited now than I was before), and which drugs and supplements help and which are, at best, useless.
    
9. They still don’t know what’s wrong, but the latest notion is to put me on a very low dose of something that, at much higher doses (like: fifteen times higher), is used as an anti-depressant.
    
10. I’ve recently got back on the bike. I am still horribly unfit. But I was haemorrhaging money trying to get around town and this is worth it long-term.
     
11. I’m even more recently back on the mat exercises, after I managed to injure myself doing ill-advised free weight-lifting (yes, again) a couple of months ago, and put a crimp in the cycling and some of the physio for a while.
     
12. I’m not living my best life right now, and I think the definition of that is going to have to change, but hey - who needed creative career plans anyway…?
     

I thought I’d go back to the blog because I actually wanted to ask some dietary advice, but I’ll leave that until the next entry, because it’s a bit much to cram into a catch-up post as well…

Thanks for reading (and, to some of you, waiting so patiently).

And then it all went a bit wrong...

What is it they say about having a crap dress rehearsal meaning that the real thing will be great?

I can only hope that it doesn't work for cycling like it does for singing, because I've been in some truly dire dress rehearsals that led to embarrassingly poor concerts.

So yesterday.  Yesterday I decided that I was going to finally have a play along the near-home map of the route I'd mapped out from Ely to home (north Cambridge). I'd even painstakingly devised a route on Strava that was Home to Ely.  Looks like this:



One small problem. If you "load route" on Strava, it in no way guides you. I didn't know that, so it went wrong quite quickly.  Basically this happened:



Firstly everyone and their dog were on Stourbridge Common, and the paths are not the smooth, well-maintained, recent, metalled surface of the busway. No. They are bumpy with uppity tree roots and switchback like no-one's business. And then I ended up in Barnwell.  I'm still not sure how.  As you can see, I went the wrong way in Fen Ditton for a while, then found my route which was, unlike as it looked on the Strava route planner, totally on-road.  On-fast-car-windy-hilly road.

I have in no way practised hills. The busway doesn't really do them. I haven't lived anywhere hilly for a while. I thought I missed hills. I still do, but my hips and knees were less sure, especially when being passed by fast cars.

And then I realised that I was trying to follow the "Ely to Home" route backwards, having smacked my thumb into the wrong one on my phone (the route for which I could barely see on the screen in bright sunshine as it was, as Strava denotes the route to come using orange against shades of yellow, and where you've been in bright blue), so I pulled over (again - I'd already lost a lot of momentum to this), stopped the recording, loaded the "right" route, and started the recording again.

Whereupon this happened:


As the youth say: I don't even. I just can't.

I was very pleased with myself, having gone wrong already a couple of times (long way around Stow-cum-Quy instead of through it? Okay!), to find the right road, and be ganging on through Lode (very pretty - nice, smooth roads, too).  I stopped when I figured I'd gone far enough to turn around and still get my miles - as I recalled, the "correct" way back was longer.

There was a pretty bridge with sunsetty shades all over the landscape. I stopped there:

Road Behind

View Ahead

And then I ate, drank some water, and set off on the "proper route".  By this point, I wasn't startled by going on the road with the whizzy cars, and I knew there was a hill coming up.  I was warmed-up and fed, and it was all good. Right?

Turns out the other thing Strava route-planner doesn't make clear is when something is so off-route it's a dirt track, and that the only other options are private farm roads or turn back.

I stopped, swore, turned back, stopped again, and programmed in a cycling route on Google Maps, which soothing voice navigated me all the way home (via some confusion in Fen Ditton, but a lot less confusion than anything that had gone before).

So, what's the conclusion?  The conclusion is that I have to make a conclusion - do I:

a) Stick to the boring-but-safe busway route, and just head on up to St. Ives (~12.5 miles away), then head home; or

b) Programme in a clever route on Google Maps and just do the crazy version anyway?

Both are tempting, for different reasons.  a) is safer, and will achieve my 25 mile goal without too much stress.  I will also get to see a different part of my training route that I haven't encountered yet. That's interesting, right?  And I'd already said that I would do that route if the weather is rubbish on Sunday. b) is the original challenge, and a heck of a lot more interesting. There are also pubs on the way that will afford wee stops if necessary.

On the other hand, I've now done a trek that was 74.8% of my eventual goal, and didn't break myself (though I'm really feeling it today). I call that a near-win.  I have also concluded that I'm not doing another big training ride on Wednesday - I'm resting these little legs (daily commute aside).

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.

Catching Up…

Well, I appear to be back. Which is an interesting place to be.  Let's review where I went:

In December I'd already been cycling to and from work, and in January had started sessions with an exercise trainer who'd done lots of reading up on HMS/ EDS (and seemed to know more than me) and was feeling quite chipper about my physical health.  My lungs had started to "open up" again, and I was feeling a lot of the benefits of being more physically active.

Then in mid-late-February I injured my neck badly. (Please don't ask how: from experience, we'll both regret it.) Now, I'm used to injuring my neck - it's a bit par for the course with the way my hypermobility works. So I left it alone, doing all the usual right things (reduce burden, immobilise, sleep a certain way) that usually sorts it out within 48 hours.

Then I got back on the bike.  And it became clear really quickly that this wasn't going away, even though it waxed and waned, and I'd have to stop doing an exercise that relied on me being able to look over my shoulder as I no longer could.  I went to my usual physio, who assessed me (yes, I was right: I'd injured something in a different part of my neck from usual, and it was a generally unusual place to boot), gave me some exercises, and asked me to come back.  In the meantime, I was back in taxis and buses, spending a bunch of money on that and physio.  Which, it turned out, didn't work - my neck was busted badly.  She suggested I get X-rayed, and a desperately frustrating cycle of annoyance and admin kicked off.

Short version:

5 second X-ray from one angle - nothing to see, reported by SMS. Wow.
10 minute examination by rheumatoid specialist - you don't have EDS. Er, okay, but why...? Go to a physio. Yeah, er, thanks...
30 minute back-and-neck massage from 19-year-old at a spa in Cardiff - regained at least 50% range of mobility. WOW! {tears of joy}

By this point, it was mid-May. Once the range was back enough for me to at least vaguely look over my right shoulder, I got back on the bike, and back into the mat exercises.

One small problem - a persistent cough that started with a bad cold on 1st May. This is buggering my sleep, which means that I spent a while sleeping on the sofa to avoid disturbing everyone in the house, which means the kind of discomfort you'd imagine. Also: a ridiculous amount of nosebleeds. Joyous.

This, however, has not noticeably stopped me from becoming more active again.  For a start, it's not in my lungs, as far as I can tell, so my breathing itself is okay. And once I get past a certain point in any exercise event, all the nice neurochemicals kick in and open up my respiratory tract, reducing inflammation and phlegm, and I have this wonderful phase for a brief period afterwards where I just don't cough. :)

The next post will deal with what I've been doing, exercise-wise. :)

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...

The Secret of the Pyramids

We have a shorthand in my household when people are emotionally up against it: "Maslow?"  It's even become a verb: "What should I do?" "Well, to start off, Maslow it."

What are we talking about?  I used to teach this as part of my A Level Psychology course, and I figure (despite its limitations), that it's a good tool:

Here's the thing - it's really hard to do that brain stuff that you need to do when you're hungry, tired, thirsty, or scared of basic stuff.  So if you're suffering from low brainwidth, deal with a couple of the lower rungs of Maslow first.

In a brain-flap? Drink some water.  Right now.  Get some water in you. Okay, now you've dealt with that, how do you feel about carbohydrates?  That's good news - here's a cookie^*.  Right, now we've dealt with that, what do you need to do next?  Is this an emergency, or can it wait until you've had a nap?  Okay, well, have another cookie^* and let's work out the rest of this.

In other words, you need all the resources you can actually get hold of (instead of punishing yourself for feeling bad, coz that works excellently well as both a long- and short-term strategy...) in order to deal with brain stuff.

I am crabbit at the moment, partly because my sleep is off and I've been in an amount of pain (though better today due to yesterday's interventions), partly because Everything Happens At Once seems to be one of those things.  I'm feeling overwhelmed, in short, and I'm going to write a poem about it full of emotive symbolism and all but, in the meantime, I'm going to deal with what's in front of me so that I can deal with things a few steps away.  And this may also mean telling Everything Else to back off a couple of steps, thanks.

I will eat lunch shortly, and go to the gym tonight. I will then eat well and early and I will sleep, by all the gods, because the world's a more dangerous place when I haven't.

And now, just to cheer you up, a picture of a crabbit (alternate definition):

__________________________

^* substitute dried fruit/ banana/ boiled egg/ whatever works for you at this point.

Bleh

Today is a Bad Joints Day.  Not only the usual suspects: Borked Shoulder, Particularly Bad Knee, Grinchy Neck Section, Dodgy Wrist, and Whingey Lower Back, but pretty much everything else as well.  The knees feel swollen, and everything is particularly clicky, achey, or twisted.

Yay.  No gym for me tonight.  This, combined with general increase in clumsiness and fine motor control near-absence today and yesterday leads me to conclude several things:

1. Sleep deprivation is a major key in pain perception/ management

Sleep has been very absent lately, especially over the last two nights.

2. I need to drink more on busy days

Like way more.

3. I have entered the "secretory" phase of my menstrual cycle

O hai progesterone, come to make a fuss, have you?

4. Standing around lots really does knacker my knees, especially when carrying heavy stuff

Seriously.

5. There may be some other factor that I'm not figuring in that is pulling everything else out of alignment

e.g. diet (sugar? acid? protein? calcium? something else?), the actual weight carried while walking/ standing, emotional stress, etc.


One of the things that worries me about, well, all of the above, is that the weekend of The Walk is a busy one, and that's got some real implications for stamina/ injury/ enjoyment on the day and recovery afterwards.

The day/ evening beforehand is a choir concert.  Judging by last time, this means: lots of standing; not much fluid intake (you don't want to rush to the loo in the middle of the gig); and a late night finish, which includes eating late.  Boo.

On the evening of the the day itself is a poetry gig that I run.  Judging by, well, every time, this means: a fair amount of standing; lots of heavy lifting (including up and down stairs); not much fluid intake (as organiser, you find yourself forgetting); and a really late night finish, which includes eating late. Double-boo.

And both will involve a fair amount of emotional stress, of different types, as well as likely to be taking place during the same less-than-ideal phase of my menstrual cycle.

Oh dear.

The Big Day is five weeks away and I have, as yet, to do any of the long walks necessary to check my ability to walk the increasingly long distances on the graph on the way up to six whole miles.  I just typed the phrase "Things keep getting in the way." and looked at it in disappointment and a measure of horror.

Oh deary me.

So the next five weeks are going to see:

1. A new sleep strategy (and set of tactics to match)

Don't ask me yet - I need to work this out.

2. A dry run of "drinking more and standing around less" for the next poetry event

Can't hurt...

3. More physio advice

She offered something I was tempted to take her up on.  Now that looks like a Very Good Idea Indeed™

4. Cracking on with the nutritionist advice

Any suggestions for good ones in Cambridge?

5. A new mattress

Mine is completely scuppered; time to spend some money.

6. Actually doing a long walk

No excuses.

7. Reading up more on hypermobility

There must be more I could be doing that I haven't thought of yet...


So watch this space, basically.

Pyramus

Or, contrariwise, Thisbe.

I appear, Gentle Readers, to have hit a wall. I don't know if it's The Wall, but I do know that today I'm not tired: I'm exhausted.

Really? Yes, really: I'm hungry, teary, confused, panicky, utterly uncoordinated, and pretty much all out of juice.

Today was going to be about how I'm managing to balance work, poetry, home life, and exercise. Whooo! Instead, it's going to be more along the lines of: lots of things went wrong over the past ten days, and I coped with them, Doing Everything as I did so, until I could no longer take on any more crap, and broke.

Oh walls.

I suspect that there's a lesson to be learned here (about who, when, and how to ask for help, and how and when to say No), but - until I've slept like a child whose fever has just broken, I'm not going to be able to grasp it, let alone share it coherently.

In other, more positive news: my physio is impressed with me, and has a solution for the pins and needles in the Arm of Doom (otherwise known as the left one - it's doubly sinister... haha! Help me, I need sleep...). Happily, this does not include stopping using free weights, which is what I'd assumed she'd say.

Right, I've now eaten a crapload of mashed potato, bacon, leek, cheese, and whatever else was in that lovely meal. I've had my final Gold Bar (none left in the house now - I made them last for well over a month), and now I'm finding my Kindle and going to bed.

So goodnight unto you all.