After returning from South Africa I was extremely sensible and took 4 weeks off running to give my body a complete rest and time to recover. During the expedition I had lost a huge amount of weight to the point where you could see all the veins in my stomach – pretty revolting to look at I might add and my muscle mass was also depleted.
The one thing I always find difficult after losing so much weight is getting back to a normal weight. I don’t mind the eating as I need to eat, but I hate how I feel in my clothes. One minute everything hangs off me and a few weeks later my clothes fit me normally again. All good and how it should be but once I’m back up to my normal weight I instantly feel “fat” again because my clothes fit me properly, thankfully this only lasts for a couple of weeks as my mind adjusts to “normality”.
Having spent 32 days outside while in South Africa my auditory senses were heightened and any noise, especially the TV seemed EXTREMELY loud. Poor HWMBO was getting very annoyed with me as I was constantly wanting him to turn the volume down even if I was in another room, it seemed SO loud.
The 4 weeks seemed to fly past. Although my legs felt fine after SA I knew it was the right decision, my body needed to recovery properly in order to perform well for the rest of the year and from a mental point of view I needed time away from running.
I didn’t relish the thought of spending most of my time inside once I had returned to the UK so I met up with lots of friends and enjoyed walking my dogs, nothing better than a good old gossip while exercising the hounds.
I began to get itchy feet by the 2nd week in November but managed to hang on for another week until Ray Zahab my marvellous coach gave me my programme that would take me up to beginning of February, ready for the 161km Run the Rann race in India.
Most of the training has gone OK – notice I say OK not great! My body felt fine when running on any downhills or flat sections but as soon as I hit a hill, even if not particularly steep, my breathing got worse and my body just didn’t have any oomph in it resulting in me having to walk. Funnily enough my hill sessions were OK so I really don’t know what was going on – perhaps my body isn’t as rested as I thought and I’m doing everything I tell other people not to do by going back to training too soon? I don’t know. I’m off to see my doctor next week to see what it could be and possibly change my inhalers although it doesn’t feel like my usual asthma related breathing problems.
The motivation to go out on my long runs seems to have been left in Africa – the thought of spending 4 hours running really doesn’t appeal and I’d find myself trying to find any excuse not to be out for as long as I should be. It’s not even about being on my own, I always train by myself so that doesn’t particularly bother me, it seems to be the time out running; quite simply I couldn’t be bothered. Two and half hours I could manage but any longer and all motivation went flying out of the window.
I was beginning to feel very deflated and worried about the run in India. If I can’t run 4 hours in training how the dickens will I manage to run 100 miles in the Rann of Kutch Desert? Perhaps I was feeling mentally tired – I really don’t know.
While transferring my photos from one computer to another I came across this marvellous picture that two friends had sent me while they were taking part in one of the RTP events.
It made me smile and gave me a gentle push in the right direction. A couple of weeks ago I managed a 3.5hr run and although my breathing still wasn’t perfect I was feeling much more motivated and gave myself a huge pat on the back when I got home for sticking it out and not trying to wiggle out of it – a big step forward and left me feeling much more positive.
Over the last couple of weeks my running has felt more comfortable, pace has picked up a bit and running up hills is definitely better on the chest, now I feel that perhaps I can run 100 miles – we shall see!
It was with great sadness that I had to say goodbye to my beautiful black labrador and running companion Lochie. I had watched him being born and out of the 9 puppies his mum Cally produced I knew I had to keep him.
Lochie gave us a huge amount of pleasure and had a wonderful life but eventually his body at the age of 14.5 couldn’t cope any more. A tough decision but the right one. He will be missed by everyone who knew him. May he rest in peace.
