Pride comes before a fall and all that! I was watching the scales plummet and getting 'right up myself' (as they say) with weight loss, decent mileage and gym work. I was running like a daftie while literally fading away. The sacrifice of Jammy Dodgers, tatties and Harviestoun pale ale was worth it when you're bouncing around like Tigger at sub-6 minute mile pace. My dopamine production had moved to reduced hours with the lack of sugar and carbs, but that's just the way it is. I was to be found cruising near the front of the bunch in training nights. Deep joy.
However, you can't foresee everything in life. It was a long day sitting in my chair at the desk plus a snatched gym session on the same day when my life as a professional athlete came to a stuttering halt. My left glute and hip seemed to go all loctite superglue when I got out of bed the next day. Must have been those weighted squats. I thought I could run it off and kept my appointment at the track that night. However, it soon became clear this was something more than a niggle. That was 4 or 5 weeks ago I guess. I still managed gym sessions, but avoided hip and glute exercises and mileage went from fifty miles a week to around ten. Still, I remained patient and was still game enough to drive up to the Scottish Cross Country short course champs with Ant and Cat early in November. We arrived in good time and even had the temerity to visit a local farm shop and order coffee and shortie. Arriving at the Racecourse, we parked without any grief and sat in the car watching the wind whip the nearby flags hanging beside the old auction house into submission. Sure was windy.
As the crowds gathered we walked the short distance to the tent village and took no part in the tent erection exercise. Well, its a specialist thing, isnt it?! It was on with the spikes for the first time in almost 2 years and I, somewhat optimistically, waltzed out for a warm up. The discomfort was bearable - it meant I could run, but not race with any effect. After exploring a quiet spot in the woods, I lined up in the squally rain and tried to find shelter behind some big burly men. But this being athletics, there weren't any. We were soon dispatched and around 300 or so galloped ahead of me. It pretty much stayed that way all the way round. I took little satisfaction in seeing one or two men pull up. I was slightly jubilant when I caught another, but he was slipping and sliding around on the muddy patch with his road shoes on and I thought 'well, that doesn't really count, either!' I fairly minced my way around the 4k course and the race was finished before it began. A course for the fast boys; too flat, the surface too hard. Ant did fine and Cat had a stormer (top 10), so there was some salvation on the flat windswept hinterland of the town that apparently hosted the first Scottish Parliament and first Scottish aviation meeting. Who knew?
Briefly stopping to watch the medals being dished out to Butchart and Muir, we were soon back in the car and shimmying past Tinto and before you could say 'pie and chips' we were on the M6 and heading south.
I managed about 40 miles last week and things are much improved. However, the old spectre, the corpulent hooded monk who visits delivering flab and all things 'verbotten' has been and gone and its back to square one on the weight front. Well, lets be philosophical about this. Its winter and all my mammal friends are pretty much geared up to put weight on in order to get through the cold and dark dreary months. My punishment for all this? A trip to Liverpool this weekend for the Cross Challenge cross country. Mostly as chauffeur and supporter, but I will have a run out. Snow and high winds are forecast. Its the same dream team of three going down, so at least we'll get a music quiz as Cat tinkers around with the car radio stations. What a hoot! Wish us luck. I am happy that, given the shape I'm in, if I don't manage to finish the course at least I can have a crack at swimming the channel.
