It’s been a tortuous week; mentally, far more than physically. I can only recall two decent nights worth of sleep in the last nine despite all manner of sedative drugs, not to mention extra-fluffy pyjamas. Here's what happened last week...
Saturday 11/04 & Sunday 12/04: Back in the pool both days for more “running”, “walking”, “cycling”, “flapping”, “flailing”, and assorted “near-drownings”. Feel like an idiot walking up and down the pool while pensioners glide by me with effortless front crawls. Maybe I shouldn’t have worn the bright orange, blow-up armbands? Or the flowery bathing cap?
Monday 13/04: Like Rocky after getting hammered by Clubber Lang and watching old Mickey die, I return timidly to the gym this evening unsure whether my body can take any of the exertions it needs and uncertain whether my mind has the will to even try. Strap on the knee supports and get back on the bike (literally) for some low impact cycling, followed by some treadmill “power” walking, followed by some cross-training, followed by some ice cream.
Tuesday 14/04: Long, sh#tty day back at work is not helped when my knees become very sore in the afternoon after last night’s exercise. And an even more exhausting night follows watching Liverpool and Chelsea fight out a 4-4 draw. Knackered.
Wednesday 15/04: Back in the pool for more of the same as before. But without the armbands. Or cap.
Thursday 16/04: Back to the gym for more of the same as before. But without the knee supports. Apparently it will help build the strength in my knees quicker if I don’t wear them, says my gym instructor Leann. Or wreck them quicker if I push too hard, says one of the 138 conflicting voices in my head.
Friday 17/04: “Working” from home today because I have another appointment this afternoon with my Manual Lymphatic Drainage Therapist & Clinical Aromatherapist, or “Helen”, as I like to call her. She does her stuff and says very optimistic things about my chances of running this weekend and then makes me a cup of tea. As I drive home, I finally decide that one way or another I will be lining up at the start for the London Marathon on April 26th. All thoughts of a target time of five hours have disappeared and I’m at peace with the fact that if I have to walk the entire 26.2 miles then so be it. It’s not how I envisaged or wanted it to unfold but for all sorts of reasons I need to complete this thing. More importantly, I want to complete this thing. There… it’s decided.
Saturday 17/04: I need to try running this weekend so in an attempt to rediscover some nostalgic mojo, I drive to my old home town of Falkirk to soak up the atmosphere of its big public park where I used to go running and play mini golf when I was young. Power walking around the grass is certainly easier on the feet and legs but I’m too sh#t scared to break into a run. Have an ice cream to calm my anxiety… it never fails to help.
Sunday 18/04: Last weekend I made the mistake of watching a film called ‘Unbreakable’ which I’d taped (‘taped’, how quaint) ages ago. If you’ve never seen it, it was made by the same guy who made that one about the kid who could see dead people and like that one, it also stars Bruce Willis, but this time he’s not a psychiatrist who’s actually – Plot Spoiler Alert - dead.
Anyway, in ‘Unbreakable’, Samuel L Jackson plays a weird character who has some kind of brittle bone syndrome and in one particularly horrific scene, the weight of his unfeasibly large afro hairstyle makes him keel over and fall down a flight of stairs shattering almost every bone in his body. When I watched it, I realised it was exactly what I’ve been envisaging will happen if I ever try running again. With a large afro.
But I can’t put if off any longer so today I went out and started with half an hour of walking in the glorious sunshine. Returned to the house to collect some juice and do some stretching and then stood outside my house for what seemed like hours trying to…
a) remember how to run, and
b) pluck up the courage to start.
When I finally begin, it feels like I’m trying to run without having my feet touch the ground but every contact I make with the concrete sets off one of the 138 screaming voices in my head… “What. The. F#ck. Do. You. Think. You. Are. Doing. I. Thought. We. Had. Agreed. That. This. Was. All. A. Big. Mis… WARNING. WARNING. Six. Inch. Kerb. Ahead. Pull. Parachute. Cord. Now. Pull. PULL.”
Anyway, I manage a couple of miles in a sort of stop-start, run-walk fashion, which I know doesn’t sound a lot, but it felt very good to me. I RAN.
Favourite iPod moment of the day was Hothouse Flowers singing ‘I Can See Clearly Now’. I loved this band twenty odd years ago (Twenty?!? WTF?) and I’d quite like it if this is the song that’s playing when I cross the finish line next week.
This may be the last time I write here before the marathon next Sunday. If you’re trying to spot me on television, I’ll be the one in the maroon running vest at the back beside the guy in the deep sea diving suit. Either that or I’ll follow the advice of a friend who last week offered the helpful suggestion, “If your knees are f#cked and you’re gonna just walk it, you might as well dress up in a chicken suit.” Thanks pal.
It only remains for me to say a very big thank you to Murray & Helene, Linda & Kenny, ‘Amish & Vanda, John & Anita, Rachel, Kathryn, Mer (all three ladies in wonderful TX), Marc (the cousin), Mark (the published author), Karen, Alison, Steve, Stuart and Val for their kind and generous sponsorship in the last few weeks.
www.justgiving.com/neilsutherland
Saturday 11/04 & Sunday 12/04: Back in the pool both days for more “running”, “walking”, “cycling”, “flapping”, “flailing”, and assorted “near-drownings”. Feel like an idiot walking up and down the pool while pensioners glide by me with effortless front crawls. Maybe I shouldn’t have worn the bright orange, blow-up armbands? Or the flowery bathing cap?
Monday 13/04: Like Rocky after getting hammered by Clubber Lang and watching old Mickey die, I return timidly to the gym this evening unsure whether my body can take any of the exertions it needs and uncertain whether my mind has the will to even try. Strap on the knee supports and get back on the bike (literally) for some low impact cycling, followed by some treadmill “power” walking, followed by some cross-training, followed by some ice cream.
Tuesday 14/04: Long, sh#tty day back at work is not helped when my knees become very sore in the afternoon after last night’s exercise. And an even more exhausting night follows watching Liverpool and Chelsea fight out a 4-4 draw. Knackered.
Wednesday 15/04: Back in the pool for more of the same as before. But without the armbands. Or cap.
Thursday 16/04: Back to the gym for more of the same as before. But without the knee supports. Apparently it will help build the strength in my knees quicker if I don’t wear them, says my gym instructor Leann. Or wreck them quicker if I push too hard, says one of the 138 conflicting voices in my head.
Friday 17/04: “Working” from home today because I have another appointment this afternoon with my Manual Lymphatic Drainage Therapist & Clinical Aromatherapist, or “Helen”, as I like to call her. She does her stuff and says very optimistic things about my chances of running this weekend and then makes me a cup of tea. As I drive home, I finally decide that one way or another I will be lining up at the start for the London Marathon on April 26th. All thoughts of a target time of five hours have disappeared and I’m at peace with the fact that if I have to walk the entire 26.2 miles then so be it. It’s not how I envisaged or wanted it to unfold but for all sorts of reasons I need to complete this thing. More importantly, I want to complete this thing. There… it’s decided.
Saturday 17/04: I need to try running this weekend so in an attempt to rediscover some nostalgic mojo, I drive to my old home town of Falkirk to soak up the atmosphere of its big public park where I used to go running and play mini golf when I was young. Power walking around the grass is certainly easier on the feet and legs but I’m too sh#t scared to break into a run. Have an ice cream to calm my anxiety… it never fails to help.
Sunday 18/04: Last weekend I made the mistake of watching a film called ‘Unbreakable’ which I’d taped (‘taped’, how quaint) ages ago. If you’ve never seen it, it was made by the same guy who made that one about the kid who could see dead people and like that one, it also stars Bruce Willis, but this time he’s not a psychiatrist who’s actually – Plot Spoiler Alert - dead.
Anyway, in ‘Unbreakable’, Samuel L Jackson plays a weird character who has some kind of brittle bone syndrome and in one particularly horrific scene, the weight of his unfeasibly large afro hairstyle makes him keel over and fall down a flight of stairs shattering almost every bone in his body. When I watched it, I realised it was exactly what I’ve been envisaging will happen if I ever try running again. With a large afro.
But I can’t put if off any longer so today I went out and started with half an hour of walking in the glorious sunshine. Returned to the house to collect some juice and do some stretching and then stood outside my house for what seemed like hours trying to…
a) remember how to run, and
b) pluck up the courage to start.
When I finally begin, it feels like I’m trying to run without having my feet touch the ground but every contact I make with the concrete sets off one of the 138 screaming voices in my head… “What. The. F#ck. Do. You. Think. You. Are. Doing. I. Thought. We. Had. Agreed. That. This. Was. All. A. Big. Mis… WARNING. WARNING. Six. Inch. Kerb. Ahead. Pull. Parachute. Cord. Now. Pull. PULL.”
Anyway, I manage a couple of miles in a sort of stop-start, run-walk fashion, which I know doesn’t sound a lot, but it felt very good to me. I RAN.
Favourite iPod moment of the day was Hothouse Flowers singing ‘I Can See Clearly Now’. I loved this band twenty odd years ago (Twenty?!? WTF?) and I’d quite like it if this is the song that’s playing when I cross the finish line next week.
This may be the last time I write here before the marathon next Sunday. If you’re trying to spot me on television, I’ll be the one in the maroon running vest at the back beside the guy in the deep sea diving suit. Either that or I’ll follow the advice of a friend who last week offered the helpful suggestion, “If your knees are f#cked and you’re gonna just walk it, you might as well dress up in a chicken suit.” Thanks pal.
It only remains for me to say a very big thank you to Murray & Helene, Linda & Kenny, ‘Amish & Vanda, John & Anita, Rachel, Kathryn, Mer (all three ladies in wonderful TX), Marc (the cousin), Mark (the published author), Karen, Alison, Steve, Stuart and Val for their kind and generous sponsorship in the last few weeks.
www.justgiving.com/neilsutherland
6 comments:
hey Neil, When you line up in London we'll all still be asleep in the us but as soon as we're up we'll be looking for you on net. what's your number? Good luck next week matey - we're all humbled by your commitment to this worthy cause. Don't worry about the lad in the diving suit - he's a show off and he's shite at golf. Dan, Alexa, Anna and Ollie.
Neil. Brillant news. Very proud of you. Do what you have to do. Run 10, walk ten, whatever it takes - you have the will and spirit to do this. I'm coming over to cheer you on by the way. You might want to see if you can nab a golf cart at Lenzie for the next few weeks??
Cheers
Keith
Neil, Fantastic news and a brilliant piece of writing. You've clearly got the guts and the motivation that will carry you the distance. I'll be there to cheer you on. Looking forward to seeing you over the weekend.
Love
Stuart
Proud of you.
Mum and Dad
Ah ha - someone else in the process of falling apart pre marathon! I'm in the same boat!! Will probably bump into you as I'm going to be hanging out with diving suit guy too. I'll be in a pink Breast Cancer Care vest.
Off to register this afternoon. Hope you're OK!
Hey you,
Your determination shines through, I'll be thinking of you and I send much love. Look out for Mud, she'll be walking funny, bad chafing !!! (I told her about sudocreme, and about your blog, I am a good friend) xxxx x
Post a Comment