a vine that can strangle life from a tree...

I’ve never really been particularly sporty. I quite enjoyed playing team sports when I was at school, but there was never any sign of great talent. I wasn’t being picked last for our playground games of football, but I definitely wasn’t being picked first either. Running, however, I loathed. Every week, I think on a Tuesday or Wednesday, we would be sent out on a cross country run. Whatever the weather, we would run three or four miles across muddy fields and along the footpaths out around the school. I say run, but really, as long as I was fairly sure that there was no one looking, I would walk. I absolutely hated slogging my way through the mud and wanted no part of it. It would have been over more quickly if I’d run, but it all just seemed too difficult and too painful. Far better to trudge along miserably in the rain. If I thought I could have got away with hiding in a bush just out of sight, I probably would have done it. The idea that anyone might do this sort of thing for fun just seemed utterly ridiculous. 

Fast forward thirty years, and now it’s the idea that I might have to stop running that really scares me. I sort of fell into running when I stopped playing organised sport and started drinking beer. Popping out once a week for a rather laboured jog was a purely defensive measure designed to stave off an incipient beer belly. 

I didn’t actually start running more seriously until I was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis in 2009. My journey towards that diagnosis began one morning in July 2005, when I woke up with a numb hand. Over the course of the next few weeks, that numbness spread through my body and down through my legs and feet. Running when you can’t really feel your feet is an unnerving experience: you feel with every stride that you might miss your step and break a leg. I thought then that I might have to give up running, but it’s amazing how adaptable the brain is and how quickly you can get used to something that seemed insurmountable. 

As well as a loss of sensation, one of the most common symptoms of MS is fatigue. It sounds counterintuitive, but I discovered that going for a run was incredibly helpful at helping to shake off this fatigue. When you’ve been running, at least you know why you’re tired. Running made me feel better about myself. MS is a chronic illness with no cure and with uncertain outcomes, but running gave me a sense of control. Visiting an MS clinic at the hospital is a sobering experience; to be surrounded by people in wheelchairs, struggling to speak or to swallow is to be confronted by a possible future. I can’t predict or control how my MS might affect me, but I found that to be a powerful motivation to work my body whilst I can. I joined a running group and began to run with other people. I still wasn’t particularly quick, but it’s funny how running with other people makes you run faster than you thought might be possible. 

MS affects everyone differently. In my case, as well as the numbness and pins & needles, I have a loss of strength on my left-hand-side and a loss of dorsiflexion in my left ankle. This didn’t stop me from running, but as I quickly learned as I began to run more often, this changed my gait and made me more susceptible to injury as my body tried to compensate for the loss of strength and power. The further I run, the more I drop my left side and the more susceptible I am to falling over. A sports specialist consultant surgeon told me that I would probably struggle to run much more than 10km and that, although it might not be my MS that stopped me from running, the compromises my body was making probably would. Naturally, I ignored him and kept running. 

In 2015, I ran my first marathon. 

To be honest, the 26.2 miles itself wasn’t my biggest concern: I was worried how my body would hold up to the 500 miles of training and the load of running 5 or 6 times a week. I didn’t set the world on fire, but running side-by-side with my wife, we made it round and raised a pile of cash for the MS Trust (we’ve raised around £40,000 in total, an amount that mainly humbles me because of the support and generosity of our friends). 

Since that day, I’ve run another 5 marathons. At Chester in 2018, I even dipped below the magical 4 hour mark (a 22 minute PB!). I’ve joined an athletics club, picked up my coaching qualifications and taken enormous pride in the achievements of the athletes I coach as they have worked their way from a couch to 5km programme to running competitive cross-country races and half marathons. 

Meanwhile, slowly and remorselessly, my MS has got worse. My legs and left ankle have slowly stiffened; I take a muscle relaxant at night to help me to sleep and I now fall over so often that I run wearing knee pads and wrist guards; my pace has slowed and my shuffling, uneven gait is causing me problems elsewhere in my body (as that specialist predicted). Stopping, you might think, may be the obvious thing to do. 

I’m not going to stop. 

Running is part of who I am. My friends are runners. Running is something that I do together with my wife. It’s vital for my mental wellbeing every bit as much as my physical wellbeing. I’m not just going to stop. 

Sure, I wish I was faster. What runner doesn’t? 

I wish I didn’t fall over so much, but really, what choice do I have? 

Do I want to stop and feel sorry for myself and the things that I’ve lost, or do I want to keep on going as best as I’m able? Is that really even a question? Precisely because it’s become harder for me, I am more aware now than I have ever been of exactly how much running means to me and I cherish every single time I get out. It’s not the falling over that’s the most important thing to consider, it’s the getting back up again. 

I have a tattoo on my weaker left ankle by the Japanese novelist and marathon runner, Haruki Murakami: pain is inevitable, suffering is optional. 

The full quote, from “What I think about when I think about running” is: 

“Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional. Say you’re running and you think, ‘Man, this hurts, I can’t take it anymore. The ‘hurt’ part is an unavoidable reality, but whether or not you can stand anymore is up to the runner himself.” 

This runner can stand the pain and isn’t done quite yet.

don't stop moving...

As they're obviously trying to keep (potentially vulnerable) people away from the clinic at QMC at the moment, I had my annual consultation with my neurologist over the phone today. Actually, it was a surprisingly effective way of doing it and was probably as helpful as any of the sessions I've had at clinic since I first started getting symptoms. 

The long and the short of it is that my disability has been slowly increasing over the last few months/years and today they've shifted my diagnosis from 'relapsing-remitting' MS to 'secondary progressive' MS. 

I think this sounds more significant than it is. Ultimately, it's just a label to describe the way my disease is progressing. Most people with MS have a series of relapses, each relapse bringing new symptoms and new problems which get a bit easier with time (without ever completely disappearing), before the next relapse arrives and starts the cycle again. Almost all the treaments for MS are designed try and slow down the frequency with which you have relapses, thus slowing the progress of the disease and increasing disability. There isn't a cure. 

I've never really had relapses and have just seen a slow, but steady increase in the severity of my existing symptoms. I haven't been on a disease modifying therapy for a couple of years now, so shifting my diagnosis is really only an acknowledgement of the way my MS seems to be progressing: I'm not expecting relapses, but I am expecting my legs to get stiffer (amongst other things). The shift closes the door to lots of treatment options, but may open the door to others. 

It's only a label... but at the same time, it can't help but feel like a significant moment. It sounds significant. 

Still, I have much to be thankful for: we're off on an 11 mile run tomorrow morning and I've run a little over 1,100 miles so far this year. Very little of that has been as fast as I would like, but I know that I'm still capable of running quickly when I really want to, and I was only a few seconds off my mile PB a few weeks ago. Whilst I now don't trust my legs to the extent that I won't go out without knee pads and wrist guards, running remains at least as important to me now as it ever has done and I cherish what I can still do. 

Every run, no matter how long or how fast, still feels like sticking two fingers up at this diease. Long may it continue.

numbers and figures....

Unlike lots of runners, I'm not really into stats. I do have a Strava account, I do track every run and I do have a general awareness of my pace, but I'm not one of those people who goes out and tries to take segment crowns and that kind of thing. Never have been. Good luck to people who are motivated by that kind of thing, but I'm just not.

The only person I'm competing with is myself.

I fight a constant battle with myself to stop feeling as though I'm slow and getting slower. I do run a lot of my miles at a relatively sedate pace, much of it with my wife.... but I enjoy those miles, and quite often these days it's me holding her back because her natural pace is sort of between gears for me and it's easier to just run a little slower. I also know, deep down, that it's true that I can run a lot faster than that when I want to, and I have done as recently as last year in the races I do for my club. Hell, I do intervals once or twice a week and I do it then too. It's nice to throw off the shackles occasionally, to not worry about my spasming legs or my stiff ankle or my creaky knee and to just run as fast as I've ever run before. My 10k PB was about this time last year, and it should have been a couple of minutes quicker again, but I got stuck on a narrow path at the start because I'd started too far down the field and got caught behind runners I should have started in ahead of.

Ah, this stuff is boring, I know.  I don't blog for months, and when I do come back with something, it's just a load of crap about running. I'm sorry/not sorry about that. Running has played a huge part in helping me to keep my mental health on an even keel over the years, but of course it's even more important now that everything else has gone on hold. The ability to go outside for a run once a day is absolutely priceless to me and I'm so grateful that I've been able to make the most of it and that I live so close to the river and some nice, spacious running routes.

I was looking at the graphs above and thinking about my running journey. I started tracking my runs in about 2011/12, at about the same time as I started taking running more seriously. I joined Sweatshop Running Community about then and started going out more regularly than just one short run a week. Running with other people seemed to really make me work harder and run faster too. Three years ago, I joined an England Athletics registered running club and started wearing a club vest and running in actual, sanctioned races.  All of this, of course, after my 2009 diagnosis with multiple sclerosis.

Never mind the fact that I've now tracked nearly 7500 miles worth of running, just look at those graphs. The one on the left shows a track of my monthly mileage - those spikes are the peaks of training immediately before marathons, of course. Most interesting is that graph on the right, showing a rolling tally of mileage over 365 days. You can really see that sharp climb up to that first marathon in 2015, but what interests me is what happens next: there's a dip in 2018 -- ironically, running 4 marathons in a 12 month period means that I actually did less mileage over the year because there are 4 months where I'm doing very little as a taper towards race day.. but after that dip, my mileage has steadily increased to track at around 1220 miles for the last 365 days. 481 miles so far this calendar year.

So sure, I've got problems with my legs and ankle and I'm maybe running a lot of that mileage more slowly than perhaps I might like.... but I'm doing okay, considering.

Like I said, I'm not really into stats.

What's keeping you sane?

big wheel keeps on turning...

I was at the physio yesterday.

I ran four marathons last year and I've run 782 miles so far this year. Given that I have a chronic, incurable neurological condition, I suppose that it was only really ever going to be a matter of time before I needed a bit of maintenance.

I'm currently seeing various specialists about various ailments, but my visit yesterday was to consult with an expert about a sore achilles tendon on my left side.  I tend to have a rolling list of things that bother me when I run, and this sore tendon has worked its way up to the top of the list over the last few months, overtaking a stiff ankle and finally moving its way past my previous number one concern of very sore internal oblique muscles. Yeah, it's a laugh a minute keeping this show on the road, let me tell you. I was hoping that I'd be able to get some easy answers and some quick treatment to push this back down the list.  Sadly, this isn't quite how the session worked out.

You will not be in the least bit surprised to know that all of these complaints are apparently connected. As I sat down to talk through my reason for booking the session, the physio looked at the side of my left knee and pointed out that my tendon there looked like it was substantially wasted. Indeed, when I looked, you can see a hollow developing where it used to be. He also admired the fact that there was noticeably less muscle on my left hand side compared to my right and moved down to examine my ankle.  Oh, look at this.... you've got almost no strength here compared to the other side and your tendons have got about twice as much slackness as they're meant to, meaning that I have very little control at all over the lateral movement of my foot, which is why I fall over a lot as I lose control of my foot and my ankle rolls.

He's shown me a load of exercises to do to try to build up the strength of my left ankle, but I left feeling a little down about the whole thing. A sports specialist told me ten years ago that it wasn't likely to be the MS that stopped me running, but that it was probably going to be some underlying, secondary issue caused by the MS. This looks like the way it's going to be.

I'm a stubborn old bastard and it will take a lot to take me off the road... but it's always sobering to have your own physical decline spelled out to you. No matter how much I like to pretend otherwise, I'm not entirely like other runners and my performance isn't linked to how hard I train or how much I want it.

I've got an appointment at the musculoskeletal clinic next week. I'm hoping that I'll get some proper bio-mechanical assessment done to see if there's anything more that can be done to help keep me out and running... be that orthotics or whatever. In the meantime.... I've got a 10km club trail race tomorrow to keep me busy and to both take my mind off and to focus it intently on my physical shortcomings.

relax....

I was at the hospital twice this week, and both visits have given me plenty to think about.

The first trip was on Wednesday, when I went in for some surgery.  I was in early doors and out by lunchtime on the same day, but the procedure was serious enough to require a general anaesthetic and has seen me both signed off work for at least the next two weeks and banned from any form of strenuous exercise for the next month.

Four whole weeks!

To be honest, I didn't really know what to expect.  I know that general anaesthetic is pretty unpleasant, but I didn't quite know why the consultant thought I was going to need as much as three weeks off work.  What did he know that I didn't? Was I going to be in pretty significant pain or was it going to be mild discomfort and a relatively slow pace of healing? As it turns out, once I got the anaesthetic out of my system (as well as the general, they pumped the area they operated on full of a local too, so it took a while to wear off), although I was pretty sore and swollen, I basically felt okay.  
In fact, almost immediately, I was bored.

On Thursday, I watched a couple of episodes of Frasier, the Keanu film "Constantine", played a bit of Cricket Manager 2017, fed (and tickled) a neighbour's cat, read a book and listened to loads of music... but I could really feel the long days off work stretching out in front of me.  How on earth am I going to fill all of that time when I'm not working and I can't run? What am I going to do to keep myself from going completely mad?

I settled down a bit by Friday.

The test match at Headingley started, which helped to fill the day, but a coffee and a catch-up with a friend gave me a bit of perspective.  What was this if not an opportunity to step off the treadmill and to breathe in the air and smell the coffee for a couple of weeks?  I've run the best part of 700 miles so far this year, with marathon training yet to start, and since my job changed in April, I've also been spending a lot more time at work and on out-of-hours cover overnight and through the weekends.  Isn't this a great opportunity to just relax; to read books; to watch some box-sets and to just generally try to unwind and let my brain and muscles rest properly for the first time in months?

I was back at hospital on Friday for a regular appointment with the neurologist.  This is always good for a dose of perspective.  Although my MS has been very stable since my diagnosis, I've struggled with the feeling in my legs a bit this year; I've fallen over a couple of times when out running and my legs have generally felt stiff and unresponsive.  Then again, when you look around an MS clinic waiting room and see people in their wheelchairs or struggling to walk with sticks, have I really got much all that much to grumble about in the grand scheme of things? So my legs feel a bit weird at the end of a half marathon?  Can you hear how ridiculous that must sound to a senior consultant who is dealing with people who can't walk at all?  I'm certainly not unaffected by MS and my most recent MRI scans show that a few more scars have developed in my brain.... but as long as I tolerate my weekly injections and the side-effects okay, and I can still get myself up and out for a run, then I'm really doing pretty well.

I'm sure I'm going to be frustrated and bored over the coming days, not to mention a bit sore from the surgery for a few more days yet..... but why not see the glass as half full for once and take the unexpected break from work and from running as an opportunity to try and appreciate what I do have?

Yeah... you're probably right.  Ask me how I'm doing next week and we'll see if I'm quite so phlegmatic about things.

you're slip slidin' away...

At around 1am on Saturday morning, I found myself running around a wooded, hilly trail course in the Derbyshire countryside.  It was pouring with rain and had been for the best part of 12 hours, so the course was a treacherous swamp, with mud burying the many tree roots and stumps that lined the path.  This was my third lap of the 10km course, and I'd had maybe about half an hour of sleep since the night before.  As I ran, I realised that my world had completely collapsed into the narrow beam my head torch was casting around my feet; everything else but what I could see in that little cone of light disappeared.  I was cold, wet and very tired. My balance isn't great, so I was also a little terrified that I was going to take a tumble at almost any moment.

And then it hit me.  I had the dawning realisation that I was actually really enjoying myself.  The conditions might have been awful and the very idea of trying to run under those sort of circumstances might seem utterly ridiculous.... but I felt utterly exhilarated.  Tell me: when do you normally get to experience something like this?

That was Thunder Run 2017.

Since my diagnosis with MS, I've run further and faster than I ever would have thought possible.  I've found a wonderful running community, run loads of races and even completed a couple of marathons, with a couple more on the horizon.  Nothing is quite like a 24 hour relay race.  Thunder Run is pretty simple really: in teams from 1-8 people, you simply have to get as many laps of the 10km course done as you can in the 24 hours between midday on Saturday and midday on Sunday.

Last year, I managed 4 laps (and a parkrun) in sunny, dry conditions in a team of seven.  It was tough, but it was huge fun camping with my running buddies and to do something so completely new to me.  This year, I was in a smaller team of 5 people and the weather quickly meant that every lap was maybe 10 of the longest kilometres I have ever run.  I thought before we started that I was likely to have to do 5 laps, and prepared accordingly by not pushing myself out to parkrun before we started.  As it turned out, although I had the time to get 5 laps done, my body just said no and I decided that discretion was the wiser course.  Oddly, I actually felt stronger on my fourth lap this year than I did last year, with my legs in much better shape, but the overall fatigue - a combination of the conditions and the lack of sleep - meant that I was much more tired overall and decided there would be nothing gained by flogging myself around again.

It's an amazing experience; not just the running but to spend that time in camp, laughing with your friends and sharing in the most extraordinary camaraderie between runners on the course (in particular, the awe and respect reserved for the crazy fools who attempt to complete 24 hours on the course solo).

It was bloody hard work this year in the relentless rain and sucking quagmire conditions... but just look at that smile on my wife's face in photos taken on her first lap and on her last lap (her fourth).  Doesn't that tell you everything you need to know?

My MS has affected me in lots of ways physically, but it has also unlocked a determination that I didn't know that I had and - in some ways - has enriched my life immeasurably by pushing me out of the door to discover a world I barely knew existed.

Here's to 2018.

How did you spend your weekend?

come on! UGH! COME ON!

Somewhat unexpectedly, I've been very much enjoying running in the Summer League races.  As the name implies, this is a series of races that take place on Wednesday nights across June, July and August around Nottinghamshire.  They're free to run: all you need is your running club vest.  The prospect of running a 5 mile race with some of the fastest runners in the county sounds awful, doesn't it? I trundle around in something like 40-minutes, but the winners are more than ten minutes faster than that.  But running clubs have changed massively, and now the field includes runners who are finishing a good half hour behind me too and I'm comfortably above halfway.  I have a little voice that whispers to me all the time that I'm not a fast enough runner to be a member of a proper running club... but I've decided to not let that voice stop me doing something that I enjoy.

Anyway.  Last week's run was up at Worksop College and the course was in Sherwood Forest.  It was a lovely setting and a gorgeous, sunny evening.  For all that I think that I've been getting slower and slower over the last few months, when I put my mind to it, I'm actually running pretty much as fast as I ever have, and my average pace over this course was something around 7:50 miles sustained over 5 miles.  I'm not going to win, but it's nice to open up the throttle and see that there's still something there.

As you would expect, you end up running with people who are around and about the same pace, and there are always a few people who you seem to be in-and-around for the whole race; sometimes pulling ahead and sometimes falling behind.  In this race, I quickly became aware that I was running with a woman who was a grunter.  I'm a relatively silent runner, but everyone is different... C. runs with a very definite double-huff for every step she takes as she controls her breathing to try and keep the asthma at bay. Whatever works, right?  This lady was making an extraordinary noise, grunting and shouting at herself:"Ugh.  Ugh. Come on!  Ugh.  COME ON!" Each to their own, but this was mildly distracting.  Still, she was running at the same pace as me, so who am I to criticise?

At about the 4 mile mark, the course turned for home up a hill along a narrow, bracken-lined path.  I don't really like hurting myself when running.  I think the way to really get faster is to be prepared push yourself into the red; to bury yourself and to manage the discomfort.  I don't like to do that, and I often find myself crossing the finish line with a little bit left in the tank.  At this particular 4 mile mark, I caught myself holding back and thought that, for once in my life and safe in the knowledge that there was less than a mile to go, I would push a bit harder.  I quickly caught up with this woman as she grunted her way up the hill, still shouting encouragement to herself.  As I passed her, for what I assumed would be the very last time, I turned to her and said:

"Well done.  Keep going."

Pretty standard stuff.  Us runners are pretty encouraging, in the main.  Or so you would think.  Far from being encouraged, this woman turned to me and said in a distinctly sharp tone of voice:

"I prefer to talk to myself"

I was so surprised, it took a moment to register that yes, she had in fact just said that to me.. and by then I was powering ahead, leaving this miserable cow in my dust.

Charming though, right?  Although, whenever I tell this story to other runners, they seem to all know exactly who I mean.  What a way to find local celebrity. 

I bet she's fun at parties. 

Not that runners go to many parties.

...and if they do, they're not drinking much because they have a long run in the morning.

But, yeah, some runners are fun at parties.  

Possibly.

vapour trails...

In news that will come as no surprise to anyone, I seem to have accidentally signed up for a trail marathon in October.

Bear with me.

The plan has always been to build towards a third London marathon in April.  I'm currently half marathon fit, and I was planning on holding that to the end of the year (with a couple of halves and with the Thunder Run 24 hour relay along the way), building up to around 16 miles on my long run by the end of the year and then marathon training proper from January.

I've been feeling okay: I did eight miles with C. on a rainy Monday morning and then backed it up with another four-or-so miles that afternoon.  Neither run was very fast, but speed isn't really the objective here as I was thinking about the 4 or 5 10km laps that I'm likely to have to do across 24 hours at Thunder Run towards the end of July.

So what happened?

Well, it was World MS Day on Wednesday and I was chatting with some friends about how MS is such an uncertain condition that affects sufferers in different ways.  It took me four years to get a diagnosis, and I had no way of knowing that I would then use that diagnosis as a spur to start running marathons.

"Well how about a trail marathon, then?  To really stick two fingers up at MS?"
Super Kev is a machine and an inspiration: he's a fantastic runner who is quick over pretty much any distance from 1 mile to 100 miles. He's also an incredibly generous man who is happy to give up his time to help other runners.  I've been going out running the trails with him every Thursday night over the last few weeks, and he's been kind enough to run at my pace. It turns out that he's always wanted to have a go at the Spires & Steeples challenge: a trail marathon from Lincoln to Sleaford on 15th October.
Abigail, another wonderfully generous, community-spirited runner was quick to get involved.  "That sounds brilliant.  I'm in.  Tim?"

...and so I heard myself agreeing to get involved too.

I haven't formally entered yet, but I'm actually warming to the idea.  Trail marathons are apparently a completely different kettle of fish to a road race, with a gentler pace and cake. Throw some good friends into the mix, and I guess that means marathon training is going to start a little earlier than planned.

Hey ho.  Take that, MS.

you can find me in the club...

Yesterday, I made my debut for an actual athletics club; I wore my club colours and I took part in the first summer league race of the season… a 5.2 mile race down back roads, paths and fields around a lovely stately home at Hexgreave Hall. That sounds much more hardcore than it actually was: although the person who won crossed the line in something under twenty-five minutes and you needed to be a member of a running club to take part, the person who finished last probably took something in excess of sixty minutes. The guys and girls in my club are generally all whippets who leave me in their dust, so I was initially a bit reluctant to put myself in a position where I might be exposed as a laggard.. but then it was pointed out to me that a blind lady from our parkrun would be taking part representing a club called the Woodthorpe Huffers and Puffers, so I felt a little bit like I’d run out of excuses and put my name down.

I completed the course in a time of a little over 41 minutes. It’s quite mixed terrain, with some quite bumpy bits on grass that compelled me to slow down a bit rather than risk falling over (which I nearly did a couple of times), but on the whole I was quite pleased. In position 280, I was comfortably the last male member of my team to finish, but was probably barely halfway down the whole field. More importantly, the whole atmosphere was lovely and supportive and my team made me feel welcome and valued. And of course, because they almost all finished before me, they all clapped and cheered me in, which was nice.

As I mentioned the other day, I’ve been making excuses about my running because I feel like I should explain why I’m not going faster. I resisted the urge yesterday and I even cautiously allowed myself to be slightly pleased. I ran the Notts 5 mile race over the last two years. This is a flat, fast course on the roads by the river Trent, not the slightly longer, mixed terrain route with a few hills at Hexgreave yesterday. In 2016, I ran a fairly comfortable 43 minutes and in 2015, I ran a much harder feeling 38 minutes that is likely my PB for the distance. I crossed the line yesterday feeling that I had a little more to give with a time of around 41 minutes and a pace of about 8:04 minutes per mile. I’ve not been that fast for a while, and I don’t think that’s a million miles away from what I would consider to be my fastest. Frankly, anything approaching an average pace of less than 8 minutes/mile is as fast as I’ve ever been over any distance.

Maybe the time has come to stop being so hard on myself and to just enjoy myself a bit more. I’m not doing so bad, really.

you see, it's hard to explain...

I've caught myself making excuses.

I pride myself on having a zero tolerance policy with myself about my running: pretty much however I'm feeling and whatever the weather is doing, come hell or high water, I will drag my sorry arse out and get the miles in.

That's still true, but I've noticed that I've started trying to explain to people why I'm not running as fast as I think I could.  Here are the names of a few of my more recent runs in Strava:

"4 miles.  Gentle sundowner after a long day - balance seems a bit off at the moment"
"4.3 miles.  White gate with RR - legs felt absolutely rubbish but pleased with the pace overall"
"4.5 miles.  Around the river with RR - watching my footing!"
"4 miles.  Heavily strapped up wobble around the river"
"3.2 miles.  Another tumble, I'm afraid. All okay, but I didn't even fell that one happening"
"4 miles.  Gordon road with RR. Dead legs, but dare I say it...otherwise okay!"
"4.3 miles. RR with Wiggles.  Absolutely gubbed today - few days off needed, I think"

...you get the general idea.  Perhaps I'm simply documenting how I feel, but I reckon I can spot an excuse when I see one.

I've had a few more problems recently, but I don't like this urge to explain myself.  Multiple sclerosis is a condition that is often invisible to other people (although, now I've started getting my legs out and wearing shorts in the nicer weather, more observant people can see the disparity in the musculature on my legs).... but ultimately very few people indeed care how fast I run.  In fact, probably no one but me.  And I'm not sure I care all that much myself, but I seem to care what other people think. People are nice and they're often very supportive, but I honestly don't think they care what my average pace is.  Not really.

I suppose it's because I know that I'm getting slower and finding running more of a struggle physically at the moment; I know that I'm still faster than lots of people, but I can feel the decline and I can also see other people around me getting faster.  It's not that I'm jealous - I'm genuinely happy for them because they're my friends and I know how hard they have been working to get themselves into the sort of shape where they are smashing all their PBs and running some amazing times.  Good for them.  It's inspiring.  To be honest, I've never even really been the kind of runner who gets much of a kick out of PBs or running in competitive races, but I do like the running community I've discovered and I seem to care what they might think. I clearly feel that I need to explain to anyone who will listen why I'm not getting faster too.  It's not an attractive trait.  

Besides, I'm emotionally stunted and secretive and I like to keep this sort of thing to myself.

I don't like that my condition is affecting my running and that this is slowly working its way into my head too, undermining my confidence in my running.  I like even less that I'm becoming the kind of person who uses that as an excuse.  Maybe not to myself, but definitely to other people.

It's a slippery slope.  I've run nearly 80 miles in the last four weeks... I don't think I really need to explain myself to anyone.

angel is a centrefold...

As well as my legs feeling a bit weird over the last few weeks, I had a late night yesterday and as a consequence was absolutely shattered all day today.  I injected on Tuesday night as normal and Wednesday morning was one of those days where I woke up feeling as though a giant invisible hand was pushing me back into the mattress.  The day was a bit of a struggle, but because I'm stubborn, I attended the first of the season's interval sessions at the Embankment that evening.  I didn't feel great then and the late night just finished me off.  I didn't even really do anything too exciting and actually ended the evening at about 1am sitting on my kitchen floor trying to work out why my newly installed bicycle tyre looked wonky.... but it's been a long week and I paid the price for my exertions today.

Rock and roll, eh?

As you know, running is the one thing that really makes me feel like I'm sticking two fingers up to my MS.  I may not be moving as far or as fast as I would like, but the very fact that I'm moving at all makes me feel better about myself.  I was planning on attending tonight's interval session at the track run by that athletics club I joined a couple of months ago.  I always feel a little bit out of my depth and like an imposter, but I'm also usually very glad that I went (once the session is over, of course!)

This evening, I reluctantly decided that I should probably give it a miss.  I like to think that I can push through fatigue most of the time, but I've been head-swimmingly, bone-achingly tired all day and just didn't think it was a good idea... especially since my fall the other day.

Naturally, my masochistic streak now means that I just feel lazy and weak for not going. My urge to punish myself is strong indeed.

Still, to cheer me up, I received a leaflet through the post today from the MS Trust.

I've always felt as though I had unexplored potential as a page three pinup and, at last, my dream has become a reality!

(...and please also note my wife's backside making a guest appearance stage left)

I'm fairly sure that this will soon be a collector's item, so my advice would be to grab hold of a copy as soon as you can. Available in all good hospitals and MS Clinics across the land.

If you feel that the value of this publication could be greatly enhanced by a signature, then I will be more than happy to oblige. If you ask her nicely, my wife might also scrawl her name across her delightfully betutu-d derrière for you too.

And she might sign the picture too.

we can to move on up...

I'm worried about my legs.

It's not usually my policy to moan about my health here, but I'm concerned that the recent problems I've been having with my legs might be something that I'm just going to have to learn to live with. This is my ability to run we're talking about here, people.  CODE RED!

I've whinged about this already (here, here and here), so I'll try not to go on about it too much.  The thing is.... I feel like I've been lucky with my MS so far.  Sure, I've got some challenges... but in spite of all that, I've been able to keep up with my running.  More than that: since I was diagnosed in 2009, I've joined a running club and actually massively increased my mileage.  Not only have I made lots of friends doing this, but although it might sound ridiculous, I don't think I would even have thought of running a marathon before my diagnosis, never mind running two and raising £22,000 for the MS Trust.  

MS has taken some things from me, but I honestly think that it has made me a better, kinder person; it's also revealed my stubborn, determined side.  I'm less angry at the world now than I used to be, but I'm also merciless with myself and refuse to make any excuses for not getting out for a run, no matter how I'm feeling and no matter what the weather might be doing.

Much of my sense of self is bound up in my running.  I might have an incurable neurological condition, but as long as I've been able to run, I've been able to feel like I have some control.  No one needs to tell me what MS could do to me... trust me: I know.  I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.  There's no point worrying about things you can't control.

...or so I thought.

Now, suddenly my legs feel stiff and weird and I'm worried about falling over when I run.  How quickly things change.  Look on my works ye mighty and despair!  I've scuffed the foot on my weaker left side for a few years now, and falling over when running isn't a new thing... but I don't even remember tripping when I went down the other day; I was just upright one moment and then on the floor the next.  I don't like the fact that I can't explain what happened as a simple trip.  It's knocked my confidence and the fact that I just don't feel steady on my legs every time I run really isn't helping. As I was sitting wearing shorts as my scabs dried the other night, I noticed that my thighs are now visibly different in size.  I measured them: my left quad is now 5cm smaller around than my right.  It's noticeably weaker too.  This isn't a surprise to me, but it is visible proof of the damage that MS is doing to my body.

Am I going to stop running?  No, of course I'm not.

Am I worried about what's happening to me?  Yes.  I am.  I'm worried that I'm just going to get slower and slower and that one of the things that is most important to me will slowly be taken away from me.  I'd also be lying if I didn't tell you that I'm finding it a little frustrating that many of my friends are getting faster - through their own hard work and talent, I have to say - and I just seem to be running through treacle and getting slower.

But.... but... but.... why the self-pity?  Am I not still running?  What right do I have to be moaning?

I ran a little over 4 miles tonight at a shade over 8.33 minutes per mile.  My legs felt wobbly and pretty rubbish throughout, but that's a perfectly acceptable pace and was much faster than I'd assumed I was moving.  This comes on top of six miles on Sunday and 3 miles on Saturday.  That's more than thirteen miles in the last three days.  And a couple of weeks ago I completed a half marathon.

Maybe I should be focusing on what I can do rather than what I can't.

I didn't used to be this stoical either, you know.  That's another thing I probably owe to MS.

I keep on fallin'...

MS is a sneaky condition.

Yesterday, I was running a half marathon and generally feeling on top of the world; today I set out to run a quick 5km with my running club to loosen up my surprisingly-stiff muscles and I took a bit of a tumble.

It was the Reading half marathon yesterday and I ran round in support of my friend Karen.  We've been blog buddies for a while now, so it was a pleasure to run round the course with her.  I ran this as a warm-up race for London marathon in 2015, and C. and I managed 2:06.... it was my slowest half marathon ever, but it was also the one that I have enjoyed the most.  Yesterday, we managed around 2:45 and I think I enjoyed it even more (I had a beer at the drinks station outside the pub at about 8.5 miles, for starters...).  Clearly, I am capable of running much faster than that, but I was happy to do everything I could to support my friend around the course as she raised good money for the MS Trust.  Karen found it tough going after around eight miles, but she showed some real guts in getting the job done without a word of complaint and I'm full of admiration.

It was a good day; much more tiring than I was expecting, but it was a really good day.

And then I fell over.

I'd been tired and stiff most of the day, but I was determined to get out for a run tonight, even if it was only for a slow 5km.  Normally, when I fall (and it happens to me more than I'd like), it's because I drop the foot on my weaker left side and start to scuff and trip. This time, I had no warning at all and just went straight down on my left side like I'd been shot. Tired muscles from yesterday, I suppose.

There's no real harm done beyond a scuff on my knee, some bruises on my wrists and knuckles (I like to think my cat-like reflexes ensure I do a mean ninja roll as I hit the ground, which would perhaps explain the red, angry looking marks on my left shoulder)... but I really hate being reminded that I'm not bulletproof and that this condition is slowly taking a toll on my body and on my running.

I'm not stopping running, obviously... I ran a half marathon yesterday, did I mention? I probably just need to be a bit more careful and take things a bit easier (stop laughing at the back!)  I've also got a pair of insoles and an ankle cuff that are designed to try and stop me dropping my left side as I run, but I left them both at home today.  I suppose using them when I run would be a reasonably good starting point, eh?

As I stood in the shower and noticed the marks on my left shoulder, it dawned on me how hard I must have hit the ground and actually how lucky I was to have got away so lightly.  Ask me how I feel tomorrow morning, but given that one of my running friends fell over last year during a race and broke his elbow and another fell over the other week and lost one of her front teeth as she face-planted onto the road, I've been pretty lucky.

Thanks goodness for sapphire crystal Garmin screens too, eh?

I'm also very grateful to all the wonderful members of Rebel Runners who showed me so much concern this evening and offered me (and my bike) lifts home and things. It's a lovely running community and it was joining them in 2011/12 that completely changed my running life, so I already owe them loads.  Thanks guys.  It's very much appreciated.

Honestly.  Good job it's nearly summer...those leggings are ruined!

will you call my name?

 I filled out a survey at running club this evening.  I wouldn't normally consider this worth mentioning, except that I found this one intriguing.  There was only one question:

"What did you have for breakfast this morning?"

I can't even remember who was collecting the information, or why they wanted it, but I was fascinated by the simplicity of the whole thing.  One question only....but what a question!  So many possibilities for the most important meal of the day!

Of course, this being a running club, on a Monday night the answers were all fairly drab and worthy: a smoothie, fruit, shredded wheat, soaked oats... that kind of thing.

If the question had asked me what I had for my breakfast on Sunday, the answer would have been a single, small and slightly disappointing banana followed by an 11.5 mile run and then two bacon cobs with an assortment of mushrooms and a whole black pudding.

But they didn't ask me about Sunday's breakfast, they asked about Monday.

I had several choices this morning.  I had three delicious fruit teacakes; I had a whole sourdough banana bread loaf; I had about a third of a leftover date and walnut loaf*; I also have some more disappointing bananas and some sad looking easy-peelers.

But no.  For my Monday breakfast, I toasted myself two clementine flavoured hot cross buns**.

I WIN BREAKFAST.

Even better.....I have two left of those left for breakfast tomorrow too!  I KNOW!  WINNING!

What's your breakfast of choice?***

* what can I can I tell you? I guess I just get through a lot of bread.  I'm an athlete, you know. 

** For an atheist, I eat an awful lot of religious-themed bread.  Although, in my defence, I eat it all-year-round and don't see it as a food purely for the Easter period. That makes all the difference, right?

*** I know that comments aren't really a thing anymore, but let's give it a go, eh?

don't stop 'til you get enough...

The mind is a powerful thing.  In the summer of 2005, a numb right hand was the first symptom of what was ultimately diagnosed as multiple sclerosis.  That was worrying enough, but that sensation of numbness quickly began to spread across my body, creeping down through my legs all the way to the soles of my feet (it turned out to all be caused by a lesion on the spinal cord in my neck, hence the widespread impact throughout my body).

I didn't run then anywhere near as much as I run now, but I still did the odd half marathon and liked to go out a few times a week.  Think for a moment what it's like trying to run on legs where the muscles suddenly feel numb and when you can't feel the ground beneath the soles of your feet.  It was so weird that I actually thought for a while that I might have to stop running altogether.  What would happen if I mis-stepped and fell over? The loss of sensations in your muscles that you would normally take entirely for granted made me suddenly feel very unsure of myself.

I was afraid.

But I kept running.  It ultimately took me four years to reach a diagnosis of MS, but through that time I just kept running, slowly at first but then faster and faster. It's amazing how quickly your brain begins to adjust to a new normal, and before long, I was running further and faster than ever before.  In fact, I think the diagnosis actually made me more determined than ever not to give up: I seriously doubt that the pre-diagnosis me would ever have even considered joining a running club and taking part in a marathon.

I know this.  I also know that I'm a fairly determined, stubborn old bastard, and I like to think that, should my symptoms worsen and I am unable to continue with my running, I will find something else to keep myself active.

But I still find myself worrying about the way my legs currently feel like they belong to someone else, possibly to someone who has been dead for several months? There's a new stiffness in my legs now that sees me staggering around like an old man first thing in the morning and after I've been sat down for a while.  I can feel it when I'm running, and I can feel myself becoming more cautious and slowing myself down.  Are these new symptoms? Is this temporary, or will I feel like this forever now? Perhaps this is the beginning of the end? Perhaps I should start to be more careful?

My rational brain tells me that I should keep going: my brain will adjust to a new normal soon enough, just as it did before.  It might take a while, and perhaps I'll have to slow down for a bit and maybe I won't ever manage to be as fast as I'd like to be.... but I can surely keep running.  I know all this.... but I'm still afraid; I'm afraid of the symptoms I feel and of what they might mean.

But you know what? Whilst all this has been going on in my head, I also went and joined that Athletics Club where I've been doing track interval training on Thursday nights.  They're a really friendly bunch and have made me feel very welcome over the last few weeks... I doubt myself every week, and I spend most Thursdays in a state of mild dread about the evening training session ahead because I can't quite shake off the feeling that I don't belong and that I'm nowhere near a good enough runner to be even thinking about training on the same track as these thoroughbreds.  I know rationally that no one cares about how fast I run and that they're simply delighted to have me on board and want me to be as good a runner as I can be... and I enjoy the sessions (once we're finished, anyway - it hurts!) All the same, the demons in my head keep whispering these negative thoughts, doubling down with the way my legs feel and trying to convince me to take the easy way out and to give up.

I felt that fear and I decided to join anyway. I feel the fear before every track session, but I go anyway.  Not only am I going to keep running, but I'm going to keep trying to push myself to be as good a runner as my body and - perhaps more importantly - my mind will let me be.

[partially inspired by this article on running demons]

you're beautiful...

There's a guy in the changing room at work who has a locker just in front of a large mirror.  He gets changed in front of the mirror making loving eye-contact with himself throughout.  He does stop short of slowly rubbing moisturiser into his pecs, which is what I've seen guys at my gym doing in front of the floor-length mirrors.... but he's not that far away, and I can't help but look at him and fight the urge to tell him to get a room with himself.

Speaking of the gym, after nearly twenty years, I've finally cancelled my membership.  I've never exactly been one to pump iron and chug protein shakes in the changing rooms whilst admiring my guns*, but I did try to swim a couple of times a week. I really ought to be swimming two days a week because it's a great holistic exercise that works my weak shoulders in a way that running just does not.  I really should.  I should also probably be using the extensive selection of weights in the gym to work my weaker left side and to try and reverse my muscle wastage.  I haven't done that either.  Since I started training for that first marathon in 2015, the plain truth is that I've added two additional runs to my exercise schedule and haven't been swimming at all, never mind set foot in the main body of the gym.

In fact, the last time I set foot in the gym at all (since they closed the Sweatshop that used to be the meeting spot for my running club) was when I popped in for a pee in the middle of a long run a few months ago.

Hmm.  That's probably a sign that there are better things I could be doing with that money, right?

So we went in to cancel. As we went through the process of signing forms and things, I looked around at the kind of person who goes to a gym like this.  All sorts of people go to gyms like this, of course, but the people I was seeing were pretty much exactly the kind of people I don't want to be.

There's a Starbucks concession inside the gym. It's about a 50m walk from there to the car park.  The car park has Starbucks cups discarded all over the place, in spite of also having plenty of bins.

Those kind of people.

That guy who gazes at himself lovingly in the mirror in the changing rooms at work? I saw him in the shop at lunchtime today, and he was browsing the Valentines cards.

...he's buying that card for himself, right? I hope he likes it.

* I have names for my guns: they're the Bennett Brothers... Alan and Tony... and they're every bit as impressive as those names might lead you to believe.

I am the King of Hi-Vis...

I went out with my running club last night. I had tired legs, so it was a fairly steady 4.5 miles up my local hill on a clear, cold evening.  It was nice, but it was also fairly unremarkable and I was thinking of my dinner when one of my fellow runners decided to initiate a jocular conversation with me:

"I could see you coming a mile away!"
"Um... yes."
"You're hard to miss wearing all that!"
"Um... yes.  That's the whole point."
"You look like a tall, skinny beacon!"
"...."
"Well, see you next week then".

Erm.  Cool story, Hansel.

Contrary to what you might think, I don't just wear this stuff to look hot.

That's just a side-benefit.

You should see my sexy reflective bike gear.

we are family...

For 26 weeks in the summer months, the parkrun team from Colwick run a weekly interval training session on the Victoria Embankment in Nottingham.  It's called the Weekly Wednesday Workout (WWW) and meets on the open parkland just by the river Trent at 6pm from early April to the end of September.  We warm up, do loads of stretching exercises and strides, and then we run intervals around a coned out track.

We follow a structured programme, working on pace in some weeks - with short, sharp intervals - and building endurance at speed in other weeks with longer sessions around the track. Three times in the season we run a "magic mile" - a mile time trial.  At the end of every session, we plank: building up our core strength. Each session is carefully supervised and stopwatched by members of the Colwick parkrun core team.

It's hard work, but it's very rewarding and a lot of fun too with some real characters from Nottingham's running community. I've made some friends here. It also works: training like this does make you a stronger and better runner.

I actually started attending these sessions before I ever ran a single parkrun.... although it only took a few weeks before I felt so ashamed of that fact that I turned up at Colwick Country Park for the first time in August 2014.  I'd been aware of it for at least a year, but had been sort of avoiding it because I thought I knew myself well enough to know that I would want to flog myself against the clock every week and that it would hurt.  After a slow start, I guess you could say that the habit stuck.  I've now run 72 parkruns and volunteered 36 times, including 6 times as Run Director - and I'll be timing at Colwick on Saturday and marshalling at Gedling Juniors on Sunday to take that total to 38.... I never would have started guiding visually impaired runners either, if it wasn't for parkrun.  And to think that it all comes back to those interval sessions on a Wednesday evening on the Embankment over summer.  I think I only started attending at all because they used to offer loyalty stamps for my running club, and I was very keen to get the 50 stamps in 53 weeks that would earn me a pair of running shoes and had missed every other qualifying run that week.

And you know what? Every session is completely free.  Everyone there gives up their time for free to help other runners out of nothing but love and community spirit.  They're amazing people. I've met a lot of generous people through running over the last five years, but these guys are definitely right at the top of the pile.

Helen - one of the core team - told me at one session as we walked back to the start line at the end of an interval that the main reason they do this was to build links with the running community and to generate a pool of volunteers for the parkrun.

....well, they definitely hooked me.  These people - this community - have enriched my life immeasurably.  I get so much pleasure from volunteering too.  I came here to run faster, and actually my times have become almost completely irrelevant to me. I would even go as far as to say that I enjoy volunteering more than I enjoy running.

It was the last session of the year this evening.

I'm going to have to go for a run on my own next Wednesday after work, and it just won't be quite the same.

so call on me, brother...

When I did that Guide Running course organised by England Athletics last year, part of their longer-term plan was to get a database of qualified guides for visually impaired runners up on their website. They had a theory that, just as loads of other people have started running and were taking part in 'couch-to-5km' programmes and heading out to parkrun, there were also loads of visually impaired runners out there too who wanted to start running but had a few more obstacles to overcome before they could get out of the door.

It took them a while to get that database off the ground, but it's online now and I've been contacted three times in the last few months by people in the Nottingham area who were looking for a guide to help them get out and running.  I ran with one at Colwick parkrun earlier this year; another asked me if I would be happy to guide them to a 3hr 45m marathon (happy? I'd be delighted to be able to run a marathon that quickly... even more so if I was somehow magically able to do it whilst guiding a VI runner). The third contacted me a little while ago, but because I was marathon training and he was busy moving house, we were never able to make it work.

Until this evening, when we had a little 6-and-a-bit mile pootle along the canal with my running club.  We didn't run all that fast, to be honest, but I don't think it really mattered.  Nick has just done a half marathon in 2:04 and is looking to train up for the Robin Hood full this summer and for London next year, so is clearly capable of going faster than we ran tonight, but we were feeling each other out and seeing if we could make this work.  He has other guides, but he's looking to get as many as he can so that he can manage all the training runs he's going to need to do without being totally reliant on one or two people.  I won't be running a marathon with him, but I'm happy to train with him when I can, especially if he makes things so easy for me as to meet at a running club session just up the road from me that I already attend most weeks anyway.  It felt good.

When I guide Terry at Colwick, he always worries that I'm giving up a run so I can escort him round.  That's nonsense, of course.  If I felt like that, I don't think I would do it and I run with him because I enjoy it.  It seems like such a little thing to do, to take someone round to enjoy something that I love to do and that they can't do on their own.  It helps when you're with someone as great as Terry, but actually I've enjoyed all of the guiding that I've done.  Nick and I had a good rattle as we ran and he seems like a decent guy.  I only dropped him the once, and he said he really enjoyed it, so perhaps it will be a regular thing. I'm also probably available for weddings, bar mitzvahs, funerals... Just talk to my agent.

One thing I don't understand is why England Athletics gave me a card to prove that I'm a guide runner.  They were really fussy about the picture too, so I've ended up with one that I took in a meeting room at work to meet their required standards, and as a result I mostly look cross.  There's some tiny print writing on the back too, indicating that I've been CRB checked and have qualified to guide.  I'm not sure how they're expecting this to work with a runner who is visually impaired: am I supposed to read it out to them and describe how I look in the photo so they can do the touching-your-face thing from the Lionel Richie video?  I'm not convinced that they've thought this all the way through....

I'm still yawning...

I need to apologise to everyone.

I've been listening to my conversation over the last few weeks, and I've realised quite how much of it is taken up by talking about running.  I suspect that this is boring to other runners, never mind to normal people....

I suppose this is a natural and inevitable side-effect of the fact that, as marathon training continues to ramp up remorselessly, more and more of my time is spent either running or thinking about when I'm going to fit in my next run and what routes I'm going to take to make up the mileage.... It's bad enough that this dominates my every waking moment, and I don't really mean for this to leak out into conversation, but it does.

Even when people aren't actively asking me about it (and, amazingly, even people who aren't runners are sometimes polite enough to at least pretend to be interested in my running), the simplest enquiry seems to lead to running:

Any plans for the weekend?
You look tired. Are you okay?
Fancy a beer later?
Are you watching The Jump?

OK, so maybe the person who asked me that last one was expecting me to talk about Dean Cain and Ricky from Eastenders or something and not my 8 mile mid-week training run, but I just can't help myself.

In an attempt to make myself slightly more diverse in my conversation, I've been ramping up my efforts to get through Breaking Bad.... but as I'm still on Season 3 and at least 5 years behind the curve, most people who have watched it are are too scared to say much n case they accidentally spoil it for me.  I had this conversation with a friend at choir last night who is a big fan:

"So, where have you got up to?"
"Oh, I'm on the episode with the Fly, and my heart was in my mouth when I thought that Walt was going to accidentally tell Jesse about walking out on Jane that time..."
"Um..... how's the training going?"

Yeah.

So.  Sorry.  I did this to you last year too, didn't I?  It won't happen again.  I promise.

What?  I said that last year too?