Pain or Paradise?

Right, it’s about time I updated this thing. My title is taken from an Albion Band song, and matches how I felt a few weeks back.

I left you in suspense last time (two months ago, it pains me to admit) as I began my preparation for my return to racing, after an injury-enforced lay off in 2017. Well, sad to relate, it hasn’t all been plain sailing.

It actually began as farce. As a result of a completely chance exchange of tweets, I discovered the date I had in my diary for my first event was, in fact, only the closing date for entries to that event, The competition itself was not happening until two weeks after! Now, if I tell you that I only found this out on the Friday immediately before the Sunday on which I thought I was racing, you’ll realise how close I came to the embarrassment of turning up a fortnight too early for the event. That would have seemed a bit keen, even for me! Thanks for saving me, Mike!

There were consequences though. I’d tapered off from the fairly heavy regime I’d been pursuing through January, and suddenly found I had two weeks training still to put in before I really began back on the track. I was a bit lost as to what to do, and things drifted a bit, if I’m honest. I could probably have done a good week, and then rested, but I did two not very good weeks, instead.

Another shock was the belated discovery that I now faced four weekends of racing in succession, followed by four days at home before travelling off to the European Masters Championships. I thought I was going to have a competition, two weeks off, then three weekends racing. Just a bit more palatable. Thus, if anything were to go wrong, there was a risk it would all go wrong.

First race meeting was the Southern Counties Masters Championships. I’d won the 60 metres and the 200 metres here in 2106. These championships are unusual in that they put the 200 metres on before the 60 metres in the day’s programme. I have always hated that. Well, I was quick to get back into some semblance of my warm-up routine. I found that during my year off, I’d somehow forgotten my usual starting block settings, so I had to scramble to rediscover these by trial and error, before heading out for the 200 metres.

First race indoors since early in April 2016. First time in my racing spikes since August 2016. First time on the steep and hard banking of the Lee Valley track since March 2016. I set off well, and felt very relaxed. I overtook the two guys in the lanes outside mine pretty quickly, and while this was reassuring, it meant I then had no one in my actual or peripheral vision to give me any indication as to how well I was actually running. Reassuring calls from spectators at the start of the second bend suggested all was going ok, though. Then, at the crown of the bend, with about 60 metres to go, my right calf began to tighten up significantly. Injury, not fatigue, it was clear.

I went flat-footed on the right leg, to take some strain off, but as the track’s banking swung downhill almost immediately, this was hard to maintain. I was later sent a video of the whole race, and I can see exactly the spot that the calf trouble began. My knee lift diminishes almost immediately, and I must gave scrubbed off a fair bit of speed. Well, I pushed on, and I won the race, but there was little pleasure in doing so. Misfortune had found me again.

Half an hour later, it was painfully clear that I wasn’t going to have any chance of racing in the 60 metres. It was a bugger that there was no ice available in the stadium, too.

Next day, I was hobbling. The spot that hurt was easy to locate, and didn’t seem very deep into the muscle, so icing it was straightforward. I had an exploratory visit to the gym to see how much movement I had in the calf without pain (not much) and then headed for a conveniently pre-arranged chiropractor session. I’m well-disposed towards acupuncture, and it usually does me some good. Jesper’s needles eased some of the tension in the calf, but even so, it was a simple conclusion to draw, next morning, that I’d not be racing that coming weekend. It was all going pear-shaped a bit soon.

The week that followed saw some of the worst winter weather down my way for quite a few years. I went for a few walks in the snow with the camera, but the gym had to close early on a couple of days, and much of the rest of my time was spent shivering indoors, doing business admin, editing photos, etc. As rehab, it wasn’t much. I had a plentiful supply of ice, though!

The weather had relented by the time that the Masters Inter-Area match came around the weekend after. I still had to dig the snow out of my front drive the day before travelling to it, however. I was due to be photographing the event, and as many people couldn’t or wouldn’t race that day (a week before the national championships, you see) I’d felt pressured into taking to the track a bit before I thought I was ready. I warmed up at Lee Valley, with an industrial quantity of kinesio tape on my dodgy calf, and some on the other one, “just in case”. To my surprise, my 200 metres race went well. I took second place, felt smooth, and pain-free.

I probably didn’t use the hour or so after the race, very well in terms of keeping my calf mobile. Then, to close the match, there was the 4×200 metres relay. I ran last leg for a team that knew it had little or no chance to shine, and I took over the baton when we were plain last. No point in pushing it, so I just ran the lap at a steady moderate stride. And wouldn’t you know it? At precisely the same place on the track as two weeks before, my calf began to complain. This time, I had the opportunity to slow right down, and crossed the finish line almost at walking pace.

And that brings you right up to date. I’m back to icing the leg, hoping for a miracle, and things like that. I am supposed to be racing in the British Masters next weekend (as I write), when my events both look likely, from the entries on paper, to have heats and finals. I am not at all convinced I’ll be lining up to compete, and even less convinced that I should, because it’s then only a few days before I travel off to Madrid for the European Masters. In Madrid, whatever happens, I am simply not going to be competitive, but I’d like to give a couple of races my best shot, even if I do get eliminated in the heats, which is highly probable. Further damage to my leg next weekend would screw my chances of that totally, I think. Having written it down, it’s a no-brainer really, isn’t it? No miracles for 64 year-old sprinters.

I’ll let you know how it went – or didn’t.

(Update: Well, the British Masters Indoors didn’t “go”. I made a last-minute decision to scratch from both of my races, and try to save my leg for Madrid. I’ll know in a week or so if that was the right move.)


One Response to “Pain or Paradise?”

  1. Angele Style Says:

    I enjoy reading about your athletic adventures. It’s not about the result but the challenges along the way that is so interesting.

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