The Hobbling & Lazarus...

More painful than it looks...

I was in pain and the light at the end of the tunnel was an oncoming train... A blister is a small pocket of fluid within the upper layers of the skin, commonly caused by forceful rubbing/friction. Most blisters are filled with a clear fluid called serum or plasma. (Fact of the week: The word "blister" entered the English language in the 14th century. It came from the Middle Dutch "bluyster", and was a modification of the Old French "blostre" which meant a leprous nodule—a rise in the skin due to leprosy....) I really couldn't care less about any of that. MY blister had formed across the ball of my right foot at mile 11 of last Sundays 20 mile race and, instead of stopping to check my foot, I ran on through the pain whilst the blister became bigger and bigger. At the end of the race it measured 2"x1/2". And it bloody hurt.
Seriously, it had stung a bit when I had gone for a light, float assisted, swim at lunchtime, but by Monday afternoon I was unable to put any weight on my foot and was hobbling and around as if I had one leg longer than the other. The blister had filled with a strange mixture of blood & fluid, which may or may not have been swimming pool water... How the hell was I going to be able to run this week, let alone race again on it next weekend, if it hurt to stand on it, let alone do anything else...? I was worried, big time. My running career was as good as over...
First things first - sod the infection, stab it a dozen times with a safety pin to let all the serum/plasma out in order to (create a fountain effect) get rid of the swelling, let the air get to it and let it breathe. Just before I went to bed, I washed it then rubbed some Germolene into it. Big mistake. I climbed into bed and closed my eyes. However, as the anaesthetic in the ointment started to work, so the pain/discomfort level began to rise. And rise. And rise... I didn't get much sleep that night. I could feel my pulse thumping away in my foot, and runners paranoia had set firmly in my mind "What if I can't run properly? How much is this going to affect my training? Will I still be able to run the marathon in eight weeks time?"

A few days off from running was not going to suddenly affect my fitness levels, although what it was going to do for my piece of mind was another story... So okay, to be fair, as I'm a runner who's training for a marathon, a big blister on the ball of my foot isn't the best thing in the world, but on the grand scale of things - it could be a hell of a lot worse. It's not exactly a broken limb, sprain, twist etc. I didn't even break the skin. (Unless you count stabbing it with a safety pin) With care, attention, good socks, and copious dollops of Vaseline and Germolene, I expect it to be uncomfortable and, at times, downright painful. I don't expect it to completely wreck my training. What I didn't expect was just how upset I would get from being unable to run...

Come Tuesday morning it was obvious that I wouldn't be training that day. No early morning jog, no lunchtime swimming, no quality session on the track in the evening - complete rest and let nature take it's course. My primary goal would be, for the time being, to aim for the Bourton on the Water 10K the following Sunday. Triple Tuesday simply didn't happen. It wasn't a triple, a double, or even a mono Tuesday. Instead I hobbled about all day, thoroughly depressed and close to tears, my mind full of an irrational fear that I had ruined all of my hopes for a sub-three hour marathon finish. I use the word 'irrational' because that's exactly what it was; and I know it was, and in retrospect it was an over the top reaction. But at the time... Once work was over for the day I got home, took off the blister plaster that I'd adhered to my foot before work, elevated the limb and watched Star Wars Episode Three: Revenge of the Sith. There's nothing like a bit of sci-fi escapism to soothe my soul...

Wednesday brought with it a ray of hope. I was pretty much able to weight bear again, and after I'd finished work for the day, I went for a swim. I won't lie; it stung a bit when I got into the pool. After that, thankfully, I was able to swim with no discomfort and, in what was my first swim session of the week, thankfully I was able to put in a half decent distance and give both my arms a very much needed work out. When I got out of the pool I found that a few people, who knew of my woes via Facebook and this Blog, where rather interested in seeing how bad my blister was, drawing a few complimentary "oohs". Well, it must have been bad if it was enough to stop me from running.

Thursday brought a partial smile to my face. Because I ran.  There was no point in trying to make up the mileage that I had lost over the past few days, so I simply followed the days schedule and managed to put in a 6.5 mile run. Well, when I say 'run' - I hobbled in a fast manner. In fact, my 'hobble' was done at an average of 6:39/mi - marathon pace. Before going for the run I smeared copious amounts of Vaseline and hoped for the best. By the time that I had completed 4 miles I was showing signs of discomfort. I stopped briefly to take off my shoe & check the foot. The Vaseline had evaporated so I replaced the shoe, and continued on my way. The brief hiatus didn't seem to affect my pace too much, however, what I hadn't realised was that I was over compensating and placing more weight/stress upon my other leg. I found out that little fact when I had a sports massage after work. Probably one of the most painful massages I have ever had...

With the sole of my foot regaining it's strength with every passing hour, it was time to fall back on my old faithful Friday standard - the hills of Compton Dando. (That is the way of the weasel.) Instead of charging around at my usual pace, however, I opted to exercise caution and 'slowly jog' around the route. I could have done with some company to take my mind away from my foot, but with only myself for company, I managed to get 7.5 miles under my belt, without caning myself to do it, and still managing to get around in a sub-6:55/mi pace. The turn of speed was most probably due to the enforced rest.  In my mind it was just a process of slowly building up the strength in the sole of my foot which will, in turn, allow me to run faster. The restorative power it had on my mind though was worth more to me than the run though, ensuring a turnoff spirits that I could not have foreseen two or three days beforehand.
After work I packed the car, collected MrsC from her place of work, and headed up the M5 to the in-laws house in Broadway, in the Cotswolds. Our home away from home...

Give my regards to Broadway...

I was up early on Saturday morning for an easy 7 mile jog around the snow-dusted 'chocolate box' villages of Broadway, Willersey, & Childs Wickham before breakfast and catching up on all the local news and gossip with the family. Days such as these provide me with restorative powers - soul food as it were. To round the day off, as is always the way the evening before a race, a sumptuous pre-race pasta feast was prepared and devoured. Going hungry at the in-laws is one thing that will never happen...

The next morning, for the third year in a row, we headed into the picturesque village of Bourton-on-the-Water for the annual 10K race. This is small race, it only has 570 places available, it doesn't have an on-line registration system, relying on good old-fashioned printed entry forms & cheques, yet it is so renowned as a very flat, and fast, race, that entries are sold out within 4 or 5 days. International standard runners, such as Dan Robinson, Alyson Dixon, Ben Moreau, and Gemma Turtle have been known to toe the start line. Indeed last year, when MrsC was injured and unable to run in the race herself, she passed her number on to the woman at the top of the waiting list - Irish international runner Rose-Anne Galligan...
As the day before, the temperature stayed below freezing and the odd light flurry of snow blew through the village streets. Wrapped up like an Eskimo on my top half, and sporting my very short running shorts on my bottom half, I trotted around the village, and surrounding countryside, for a 5K warm up, finishing a short while before the race started, and thus helping my body temperature to stay as warm as possible on such a cold start line. The starting siren was sounded, by a fire engine of all things, and the stampede that always heralds a fast race was underway.

Under starters orders - Bourton-on-the-Water 10K

 The race consists of two laps of the village, including crossing over two very small bridges, then out past the Model Village and the Birdland Park & Gardens, along country lanes, around a traffic cone, then back the way you came, finishing with another two laps of the village. I pushed my body as hard as the rarefied cold air would allow my lungs to work. The blister on the sole of my right foot displayed no discomfort, although there was a strange pain in the big toe of the left foot, but the most discomfort was felt in both of my quads. There was a fallow period at around the 4.5 mile mark when as I felt the lactate building up in my legs (all this fast paced stuff is too much for me) the pace dropped slightly, but I carried on pushing through the pain knowing that every step was taking me closer to the finish line. And so it was that, thankfully, I re-entered the village and completed my requisite two laps to cross the line in a time of 36:52 - just 3 seconds away from my personal best time!! Unbelievable!! I quickly found MrsC, donned a jacket and merrily trotted off for a 5K warm down. Unbelievably, my quads were as tight as a, very painful, drum and I was glad of the post-race jog to ease them back up a bit...

So, in the space of 6 days I had gone from the very depths of despair to putting in my second fastest 10K time ever. It's amazing how quickly the body and mind can do a quick about turn when you're determined to achieve the end goal...

Weekly totals:

Run miles: 33.9
Swim lengths/metres: 64/1600m

Sit-ups: 640

Press-ups: 320