Middle Aged Ligaments Suck!

So, I am out tonight intending to have a lovely 10 km. Let's talk about the weather first - temp is mild, there was some snow last night and this morning but the sidewalks, for the most part are clear. There are, however, hunks of ice, on the sidewalk, leftovers from the last plowing. You know what I mean, the kind that, somehow, regardless of where your foot is and regardless of wherever they are, they wind up under your soles like some podiatric intergalactic missile. Well, that's what happened tonight. One foot, one ice hunk, one twisted ankle. Dang! And only 7 or 800 metres into the run. So, with the help of my buddies I hobbled back to the car. Didn't feel that badly but I did not want to slow them down. I did have a secret thought that, perhaps, when I got back to my place I would test the strained ankle in my own neighbourhood after it had an opportunity to rest (on the drive home)!



Got in the car and wouldn't you know it...when I had accelerated (gas ankle = hurt ankle) it hurt like hell. I think the slight plantar extension required in depressing the gas pedal is the same plantar extension that is utilized in running. Hmmm...nix the Plan B run. Anyway, I got home and decided to give my daughter, the physiotherapy student, an opportunity to do a clinical assessment and write a plan of therapy. She said, "where does it hurt?" I said, "right across here". "Does it hurt when you do this?" "Yes." "How about when you do this?" "Yes". "Hmmm...I think you should put ice on it and rest it for a few days...oh, I would recommend that you not go to spin tomorrow." "Is that it? Is that all you're going to tell me?" "yeah, that's what we tell everybody!"... Bottom line is I have a 51 year old ankle. Came to that realization when I was sprawled on the Hampton Road. Gawd! I feel so betrayed - my ankle has failed.



So, what's an old gal to do? Those ligaments, tissues, muscles, bones and such become so vulnerable. Something I would have totally ignored not that long ago, an ache or a pain, is now a source of hand wringing for me. I must now think about bone density, degenerative changes consistent with age, that intense fear of infirmity. I hate it when I am reminded of the frailties of the human body. Gosh, if running did anything for me, it was to facilitate the complete suppression of that fact.



K, this has been my cathartic moment. Tomorrow I will skip my spin class and apply ice to my ankle 3 or 4 times daily. And I will be out with my running group Wednesday night. Or not...



The Middle Aged Runner

Mea Culpa, Mea Culpa, Mea Maxima Culpa

I was raised in the Catholic Church. I was accustomed to the structure and the ritual, to the smell of the incense during feasts and celebrations and to the lyrical droning of the community reciting the Apostles’ Creed – never in unison. I dutifully received my sacraments – baptism, communion, confirmation, marriage – without any doubt that this was the way things were done – whether I liked it or not. I brought my children up in the Church, taught Catechism, was a lay reader and was generally quite involved. I was a good Catholic, always felt somewhat tainted about being human – generally lived with a good sense of guilt every day. Well, I don’t attend mass anymore – no longer meets my spiritual needs. Running now fills that void - I believe I have alluded to this in one of my earlier posts.

What’s my point? This is what is curious - over the weekend, on two successful beautiful days – Saturday and Sunday, I thought about running but decided that the need to do some Christmas shopping was more immediate. So, that’s what I did – I went Christmas shopping and did not run – didn’t even go to the gym. How did I feel about that? GUILTY! What is going on here? Evidently in the transfer from one spiritual vehicle to another – that old RC guilt came with it. Dang! So, did I flog myself mercilessly? No, but that constant pang – so comfortably settled in my gut for most of my life - remained. "Bless me Father, for I have sinned; it has been 5 days since my last run". Until tonight! I ran with my friend Brent . "I am only interested in 10 k", he said. "Me too", I replied as we walked out the door. Our 10 km turned out to be 14 and hilly as hell. The ice was trecherous in some areas so we took a few turns here and there. Let's go down here, less traffic, less ice. It was glorious. We parted at the school and as I drove home, listening to As it Happens talk about abandoned Chihuahuas in California, I felt a sense of relief - similar to the feeling I had during the penance I was given as a child. Tonight, as then, I felt purged of my transgressions. Only tonight it was combined with the endorphin high.

Sweet redemption. I can live with myself yet again.

As I read this entry I am reluctant to post it - it seems so intimate and kind of nutty too. But I think we all live with guilt in one form or another and I think many of us are motivated by the need to eliminate that guilt.

Any other guilty runners out there?

The Middle Aged Runner

ps - Thanks Brent...

The Love Hate Relationship..

I have run without my garmin since October. The tyranny of training is over until the New Year anyway. I have been able to run the entire month of November without checking my pace, suffering through 800 metre repeats, hills, tempo runs nor have I burst into tears on a long run. I have been running socially, enjoying the company of friends and rediscovering why I started running in the first place. So, why don't I just run for fitness and fun? Running has never been particularly competative for me - races have never been venues for me to compete against other runners. I competed against myself only. So why is it that when I train for full marathons I absolutely detest running by the time my race rolls around.

The training is tough - always tougher than the race itself. It's expensive, I sure don't need another Tshirt, sure isn't to see those horrid photographs at the finish line they publish online, I don't expect to qualify for Boston - I know I don't train hard enough for that anyway. Every full marathon I run is my absolute last! There is a definite positive correlation between mileage and hatred - the higher my mileage the higher the hate metre! So why do I race? What is the attraction? Perhaps it is the manifestation of a middle aged crisis - my corvette. Perhaps it is an attempt at preserving my own self esteem - to gain a sense of accomplishment when many of my careeer and family goals have been met.

While I continue to ponder these questions I will revel in my current love affair with running and enjoy until the training begins and the garmin makes its appearance again. I haven't decided yet but I suspect something will pique my interest in the Spring. This hate relationship is like your memory of childbirth - an exhilarating experience (which, just like training, is never consistent with my husband's memory).

Does anyone else have this contradictory relationship with running? Love to hear from you....

The Middle Aged Runner

Deterred by Rain?

Monday was a gray day, raining by the early evening. One of those days that enables you to easily say, "forget it, I am not going out in this mess!" Too wet, too cold, too dark, too dangerous, too wetcolddark&dangerous. However, I had told my running bud earlier in the day that I would be there - in my galoshes if I had to be. All I had to do was get to the door - a much more attainable goal than getting to the high school. I agonized about the attire - what jacket, what shoes, a ball cap (most definitely for rain), gloves (in November, for sure), drive home jacket - finally decided what would be most comfortable and in the car I went.

Met my friend and off we went. Not pouring rain but rain nonetheless. It was a little cold starting out but warmed up in a short period of time. As we moved along we picked up another runner and continued on. Off the beaten path, the swish of the passing vehicles is lessened and I hear the slap of running shoes on the wet pavement, the sound of the rain bouncing off my jacket and see individual drops of water trickling from the brim of my cap. As we run uphill conversation decreases and the steady sound of our breathing is in rhythm with our footsteps. As we make our way around the route we are back on a more traveled route. Vehicles roar by, one by one, creating seemingly tsunamic waves catapulting towards us on the shoulder. In reality, of course, we are splashed sporatically but even small amounts of water is magnified to biblical proportions when you're wet already.

15 km later we ended our run and parted. I took off my cap and gloves and changed my jacket and set out for my 10 minute drive home soaked down to my socks. Yet I felt a curious sense of well being as I always do when I run in the rain. It is not about braving the elements. It's like a cleansing process - ridding the mind and body of all the negativity that has been absorbed during the day - and becoming whole and healthy again ready to take on the next day.

The Middle Aged Runner

The RPM Thong

I started spin classes about two years ago and found that they were a great cross training activity. I usually try and take in one class per week while I am training and a little more often in the off season. Of course, the middle aged muscles need some time to warm up so i have to get on the treadmill and run about 20 minutes or so before my class so i am ready for the rigourous workout. The warm up facilitates my focus during the class.

So on Thursday in my class I go, get on my bike, spend some time warming up. Oh, by the way, I like the back row, why? Don't know, have never really analyzed why. Maybe it's because I am an INTP, maybe it's because I don't want anyone behind me checking out whether or not I am actually applying load where I should, maybe it's because, at my personal core, I am an observer of people. At any rate this issue of the back row may or may not be germane to my topic, however, my back row position enabled me to observe this phenomenon. Young woman (early 30s) gets on her bike about 2 rows in front of me. I have a clear view since she is in front of the instructor. Our class starts, warm up track, interval track starts - ok let's do it I am thinking. As i start increasing my pace my eyes are drawn to the rear end of this young woman and what do I see? The top of a thong protruding from the top of her capris. OMG, i could think of nothing else for the rest of the class. There went my focus. How can she stand it? That must be uncomfortable! That thong is GONE! Her arse must be killing her! Of all the places where thongs should NOT be worn this is on of them. Do you think I was being judgemental? I don't think so - perhaps others have a different opinion. As I get older I am increasingly concerned about comfort. (Hence Naturalizer shoes and Northern Reflections full of aging baby boomers). It took me two years to buy the appropriate shoes for spin. I also recently purchased shorts that are designed for triathletes - just enough padding to make the saddle a little bit more comfortable. My mantra when i was younger was "I'd rather look good than feel good" - not so now. Although I am still addicted to high heels the notion of comfort is becoming increasing important to me. So, I seek out solutions to discomfort.

Even in my vainest hour, however, I don't think I would have worn a thong to spin.

I would let you know if the same woman wears it again but, of course, don't be surprised when I tell you that I have no idea what she looks like! Hope she is beside me instead of in front of me though!

The Middled Aged Runner.

Sharing the Olympic Spirit

November 25, 2009

Tim, one of my running friends, had the experience of a lifetime yesterday. He carried the Olympic torch in his own hometown. We have known he was going to be a bearer for a long time...since the summer but, at that time, I don't think any of us could have anticipated the tidal wave of excitement and pride that would overtake us as the moment grew closer.

For those of us who know Tim, he is a man of few words, not one interested in idle chit chat during our group runs. A stoic runner - rabid in his training but certainly not adverse to a few Alpines on his off days. Basically, the best running partner - a listener - one who would let you blab on ad nauseum about this ache or that pain or some other mundane issue. I knew him for 2 years before I found out he played the fiddle - and plays it as a regular volunteer at a local nursing home.

As the time for Tim's torch bearing grew closer I started to see a different side of Tim. One that was so expressive and vocal in his anticipation of this experience. He deadpanned 3 weeks before the run that he would be beginning his taper for the 300m which I found extraordinarily funny (since it was past my own marathon - oh, enough about me). Then the time came and went. The torch is now on to other parts of the province and it is a memory for most of us.

For Tim, it is something much more. I asked him what was most memorable about his run - he said seeing all the children from a Daycare Centre out on the road to cheer him on was very gratifying. I was reminded of someone who told me they always remembered seeing Terry Fox run through their community and not realizing at the time that they were witness to what would be a historicial moment in Canadian history. I wonder if any of these children will always remember seeing Tim with that torch and, if they do, I hope that they will have been inspired in some way during their lives. I know I have.

Proud to know you Tim!
The Middle Aged Runner

Nighttime Running: What a Feeling

November 23, 2009

One of my running buds has a few spare hours on Monday evening and suggested this was a good opportunity for a group run. I took him up on it. Three of us started out at 6pm and ran 10 km in the dark. I adore running in the dark of night (or early evening). What do i love about it? Rarely any wind, the temperature is perfect, you can't actually see the hills in front of you and you can see inside of homes through the windows (if you're looking for decorating ideas or if you're just nosy - I won't say which describes me). I certainly don't like the traffic and, as is the custom in the Valley, the traffic doesn't like us but when we turned onto the less traveled road the quiet was wonderful. The three of us running but chatting too - during the uphills there is no chatting though - the only sound the echo of our feet on the pavement in concert with our breathing.

I feel strangely anonymous when I run at night. Nobody knows who I am, no tooting of horns to acknowledge my presence, no recognition - just a dark figure glowing with reflective tape one with my surrounding. There were a few points where I felt strangely disembodied - like i experienced a fugue state. Maybe that happens in the daytime too but I seem to be more conscious of it at night.

Thank you to Brent and Claire for a great run! We'll do it again Wednesday night too!

Til next time.
The Middle Aged Runner

What has running given me?

November 22, 2009

What an exciting day! My very first post on my very first blog. Why did I start this? Well, good question. I am a runner and I am 51 years old and I am a woman. I found there were plenty of websites that gave women tips on running skirts, on breaking 3 hours in a marathon, on organizing your workouts around your childcare, on just about everything that does not apply to me.

I want to create a forum that talks about my reality: fatigue (I mean real fatigue), aching joints, running with bunions (gawd), coping with my times getting slower when everyone else's are getting faster, the fact that there just aren't that many women over 50 who are running (who I know anyway). Most importantly, however, I want to articulate the incredible gifts that running has given me - appreciating the beauty of my environment, meeting a most wonderful community of friends and supporters and the incredible strength of spirit that comes with being fit and healthy.

So here is my first post. In future I would like to share the trials and tribulations of running at middle age - I will be discussing winter running, treadmills, running fashion (hehe), ageism and a myriad of other topics generated from my own thoughts and experiences. And I would like to share the experiences of others (ah, men and younger folk welcome).

Hope to hear from others. And away we go...
The Middle Aged Runner