Post 94 - Calves...

My calves. Oh my calves. They were so sore in the week following my fast beach run last Tuesday back in Northern Ireland. It had been a very fast session, as fast as I’d ever run on the beach. Normally I can run the beach four times, as fast as possible, and not have any muscular pain whatsoever. Not this time. I must be really deconditioned for speedwork. The fitness is there, but the muscular conditioning to deal with the speedwork is not there. Earlier in the year I was in great shape for fast running, and I’d go so far as to say I was in 32-minute 10K shape. Not now!

Thinking about it, the last running speed session I did was probably in late May or June, something like 10 week ago. So I should have known better when I went down to the beach last Tuesday, and completed a different session. But hindsight is a great thing. I thought that running on the sand would have sufficiently cushioned the impact, and I’m glad that I had the sense to call it quits after two repetitions of 9 minutes, rather than doing four repeats. If I’d done four repeats, I would have been in serious trouble.

The day after (Wednesday), I literally could hardly walk. So sore. I could only crab-walk up and down the stairs, one step at a time. I could barely hobble around the office. There was no way I could do any training. So I ate lots of protein and went to bed wearing my calf compression gear, hoping for the best. The next day was no better. It’s not a good feeling, knowing there is not much you can do other than to wait and let the body do what it does to repair, in its own time. I had to have a re-think in terms of what training I was going to do. I’d planned to do bike repeats and a short run on Thursday evening, a swim and single-leg bike drills on Friday evening, a long bike and short run on Saturday, and a swim and long run on Sunday, followed by a rest day on Monday and then one final full week of training the following week, before the two-week taper prior to Ironman Wales.

It was obvious that my calves would not allow that plan. So on Thursday I went swimming after work in the pool near work. My calves might stop me from cycling and running but I could at least swim. I hate this pool near work, it’s freezing. The one near home is warmer and better, but on Thursday evening they have swimming lessons and only one public lane. I can’t do a normal swim if there is only one public lane containing a load of slow swimmers. It’s not fair on them and it just ends up frustrating everyone, myself included.

So I went to the pool near work. I should just jump straight in, get it over with and get going straight away, but it seems I prefer to drag it out, sitting dabbling my toes in the water, then getting half-in, then finally taking the plunge. I like to think everyone else is watching me with sympathy, thinking the same as me, that the water is freezing, but in reality they are probably thinking “what a wimp!” I got in and got going, and did repeats of normal swimming and hand paddle/leg float drills. It was freezing. I was turning blue after 3000m. I’m not looking forward to the Ironman Wales sea swim, it won’t be any warmer.

I got home, and went to bed early. But the dreaded itchy legs struck that night, probably as a result of spending too long in the cold pool near work and not properly scrubbing the chlorine/chemical mess off my legs afterwards. Usually after I swim, I shower once at the pool and then again at the house with an exfoliating sponge, and then I rub moisturiser into my legs. All of that usually means I have no problems. But this time I woke up in the middle of the night scratching my legs like a dog with mites, lice and fleas all at once. I got up and slathered on loads of moisturising cream. I looked at my watch, hoping it was nearly morning and that I’d at least had 6-7 hours of unbroken sleep. 1:30am. Dammit! I didn’t sleep much for the rest of the night, and woke up with legs that were now very itchy as well as very sore. Not happy.

Struggling for photographic inspiration this week...

There was an awesome sky one evening. Very relevant to Ironman...

It took another two shower cycles to rid myself of the itches, and I also sprayed my legs with freezing water in an effort to help them recover quicker. On Friday evening I managed to do an hour on the turbo, doing single leg-drills. But my legs still weren’t right. So on Saturday I decided to go to the pool rather than do a long bike and run, and hope that by Sunday, they would be in good enough shape to do a long-ish bike/run combination.

I did a 4.1km swim, using all my toys, in sets of 250m: hand paddles, ankle band, leg float, hand float. It was a decent workout and I felt good throughout. I had brought my exfoliating sponge to the pool and had a good scrub afterwards. For the rest of Saturday, I tidied my room while doing weights, stretching and core work. With having been in France and then having spent time in Northern Ireland, and not having had enough time to get everything tidied up, my room was in a bit of a state. There was no free floor space anywhere, and you couldn’t even see my bike with all the gear that was hanging off it.

It was half a day’s work to get everything cleared up and to catch up on the backlog of washing. But by the end of the day, I was feeling a bit better about everything with three loads of washing complete, a tidy room, everything put away, rubbish thrown out, legs feeling like they were on the mend, and pint of Guinness in hand.

On Sunday I planned to do a 3-hour turbo, at reasonable effort, followed by a 2-hour run at a slow pace. If my legs would allow it… So I got onto the turbo trainer and put on the Formula 1, which turned out to be pretty boring. I got through my three hours without too much trouble, but it was very hot and humid which meant I was sweating a lot. I was averaging 200-210 watts, with short frequent kicks up to 300 watts. It didn’t feel too bad and my heart rate averaged 136bpm. I also watched the men’s 100m world championship final while on the turbo. Far more exciting than the F1. It was good to see Bolt beat Gatlin in a very close race.

I planned a 2-hour run after the 3 hours on the turbo. I didn’t care how fast I ran, I just wanted to get 2 hours of continuous running into my legs. Straight away after getting off the bike, my legs felt sore. But I had to run for at least 30 minutes, to complete some sort of a brick session. I plodded through 30 minutes. Then I thought “I can do another 30”. Then I thought “I’ll turn a medium run into a long run by doing another 30…” Then I thought that my legs felt just about OK enough to do the full two hours. I was so glad to finish, and I went straight into recovery mode – eat protein, drink milk, elevate my legs, hot and cold and hot and cold repeats in the shower.

I was lucky enough to be invited out for a steak and Guinness dinner that evening. Guinness is good for you. So is steak. Both full of iron. No harm at all. It will also be no harm to go into Ironman Wales carrying a couple of extra kilograms to help ward off the cold. 70-71kg instead of 67-68kg. Strong, not super-skinny. But my weight when I’m training seems to stick around 68kg, that just seems to be my natural equilibrium when I’m training. And it’s not like I starve myself, I eat loads. I don’t count my calories, I don’t weigh my food. I just eat lots of healthy food, whenever I’m hungry (which is pretty much all the time).

Struggling for photographic inspiration this week...
Last delivery of energy food for 2015...

At the minute, I feel OK, my legs seem to have recovered, and it’s not long now until Wales. Hopefully the weather will be kind and there will be no jellyfish. I had a dream about the Ironman Wales swim the other night. I dreamed that on race morning there were so many jellyfish that it was unsafe to swim, so they had to postpone the swim until the tide went out (the Wales swim is in a big bay that is completely tidal – it’s all sand when the tide is out, and it’s all water when the tide is in). Then, when the tide went out and there was only sand, and no jellyfish to be seen, they made us do the “swim” by crawling in the sand, in our wetsuits, around the swim course. And I finished this “swim crawl” in second place. Ironman? Dominating my life? Hmmmm…

The Ironman Wales start: The stuff of.... dreams? Nightmares?