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The end

30 Apr

All good things must come to an end and this includes shabbily written blogs that offer no insight whatsoever in how to recuperate from an injury.

It feels fitting that I should sign off now. Around this time last year I came out of my boot and now 52 weeks later, I can regularly be found running around the streets and parks of West London, whilst I shout self-help style mantras to myself, (in my head, I should add). Things like, ‘c’mon legs you can do it’, ‘just a bit further’, ‘think of the destination, not the journey’, etc etc. Surprisingly the mantras work and unsurprisingly the leg holds and 5km later I am sweaty and rather smug faced.

I’ve learnt a lot…including, backpacks and tupperwear are essential kit and skinny jeans go with everything, including an airboot, (see told you no insight at all)

So folks, I will leave this here.

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Dicky hip

30 Jan

It’s been a while since I’ve had a secondary ache caused by the leg. But now I am back, back, back running. So a secondary ache is back, back, back.

Now I have graduated from the treadmill to the pavement I am now encumbered with what can only be described as a ‘dicky hip’. This I think has been brought on from my new outdoor running style which is one part power walk (but running) and one part panic. I seem to have adopted a run upon which I bob down on my right side. A little dip, which makes my run a bit like the Olympic power walkers, all hip-ey and bendy but unbalanced as its only one sided. The panic is more panic breathing, so I bob my head to gulp air as I fear any minute I will fall flat on my face.

Basically when I run I look like I am escaping a fire whilst fighting off a bag snatcher.

My physio backs up my thinking and has told me I need to think, act and be at one with gliding again. I thought I was past this but no, we’re back here again. I am channeling ‘gliding’ again. He also mentioned something about one legged lunges, but I chose to ignore this.

Back in Time

14 Nov

This week has been a little like going back in time. My leg is swollen and being in short, a bit of a shit.

That’s a technical term. Pain is easy to describe, but the niggles, aches and general aura that accompanies an ATR are, I find, more difficult, so I like to think of my leg as an extremely tempremental person. It’s ‘grumpy’, ‘unhappy’, ‘pissed off’, ‘tired and grouchey’, ‘so so’, ‘a bit of a shit’ and so on. Numerous states to describe something quite undescribeable.

I find it easier this way.

Anyway, I think the leg presses I did at the gym last week set it off. It was mildly unhappy over the weekend, but then that’s how it usually feels post workout. It wasn’t until I went to physio and he commented on the swelling and then massaged (also known as manhandling) it that it began to feel worse. If I had continued in blissful ignorance then all would still be in the state of ‘unhappy’ to ‘so so’ but when someone points at the problem its difficult to ignore.

A reduced light workout is on the cards for the next couple of weeks. I’ve worked the leg back from being pissed off before, I can do it again. We looked at ankle boots today at lunch, it seemed to help, slightly.

On the bright side I got to see an ultrasound of my leg on Monday, or ‘the massive gaping hole where my Achilles tendon used to be’. It basically looked like white noise.

Train, train, train

26 Jul

Last night saw me back in training. Six months after I last broke a sweat (105degree induced Bikram sweat doesn’t count), I donned my sports gear and skipped off into the gorgeous Ealing evening.

I know that I compensate massively with my left leg doing the majority of the work, but I was surprised at how much my left arm compensated too. I have a body of two halves. Both lazy but one that makes a Marge Simpson style ‘hhmmmm’ and lets the other pick up the slack.

Ten minutes in a number of things came back to me…

  • That time is different as soon as you enter a gym. One minute lifting weights is not akin to one minute of doing other stuff
  • Its probably not wise to keep your money in your sweats pocket – its gets rather…sweaty
  • I don’t miss the ache of a weights workout

All in all it was a good session. How I think training should be…sweat, aches but still being able to breathe.

Weekly challenges

29 Jun

This weeks challenge is one of a swollen foot. I did think it could be a slight disagreement with the shoes, (flat, nude patent or flat leopard skin for those who care), I make it wear to work and swelling is its cry for help. But the reality is worse, my post surgery foot/leg now detests boots. Detests them, in any shape/size/colour. I wore my Converse last week and the swelling is the response. Brown ankle boots a few weeks previously caused similar outrage.

Frozen peas are back on the daily schedule but applied further south.

The other challenge I am mulling over is to start slowly getting back into running. Not for something specific like a bus, more just for the hell of it. Today is five months since the snap so the thought of a light trot around the park has entered my mind on numerous occasions over the past week or so. A light trot, that’s all.

I like a weekly challenge. Its become a personal point of pride to see if I can cure the week’s problem before the next ailment rolls along. Its all a bit like an episode of Dr Quinn Medicine Woman but without the period costumes and horses.

Weebles

17 Jun

Yesterday was my first proper foray back into world of exercise. I went back to Bikram yoga, it was like returning to a much missed warm, cosy and sweaty embrace.

I thought the heat would kill me and then once revived a cross legged leaning posture would finish me off. In fact the heat was perfect, like how British summer should be but found in a studio above a bed shop in Chiswick, and the postures weren’t killers. The leg knew immediately what it could and couldn’t do…Triangle pose a yes and Awkward pose a no.

In fact it was my balance which stopped me. I am a bit like a drunk on my right leg. I wobble, rally for a couple of seconds, wobble some more then finally give in and balance on my left leg. I am a drunk weeble.

But who cares, I’m back with Bikkers.