So, the training is going well. The miles are ramping up, slowly but steadily. Still with plenty of strength work, stretching and some speed sessions. I'm doing something everyday. The knee is holding up (although there's an annoying ache which seems to come and go unexpectedly, and not related to what the session before had in stock). I've got some new friends to help guide me though: I look a right muppet carrying these poles around but they're light, sturdy and help take the load from my knees on hills and provide some forwards propulsion on the flat. When running 1030 miles I've got to be efficient with the load on my legs by spreading the forces around the rest of my body as much as I can. The clip is for some gloves to hook into, by the way. I can't decide if they remind me of Beaker or a rooster? . See if you can spot the odd one out from the selfies below. One's taken on an early run on Christmas Day, before the t...
Let me take you back to the 1970s.
The particular time I want to transport you to was when I was 6 or maybe 7 years old. Around 1976 to 77.
Long hot summers when we were left to our own devices to entertain ourselves. No electronic devices of course, cycling instead for what seemed like miles; playing in the woods; climbing through the cavernous concrete pipe that channelled the stream under the farm track; swings on trees that reached for the sky. Every day was summer, or so it felt.
This was the time when I was obsessed with looking through the Guinness Book of Records. Cover to cover. Again and again. Including the now hazy memory of seeing a picture of someone who'd completed LEJOG in the fastest time, on something like roller skates.
This was the time when there was the Montreal Olympics. I don't remember watching it on TV, but I do remember being given a book that listed and pictured all the winners with their amazing feats. Cover to cover. Reading it again and again.
My mind wandered as I thought about how these superhuman people in both books could do such fantastic things. Could I ever do anything similar?
There was no question in those days that I wouldn't walk the mile or so to junior school and back alone. I remember when I was coming home, my mind often wandering even more onto these superhuman feats. I used to believe that any ache or pain I was feeling was actually me turning into the Bionic Man, Steve Austin. I was in fact becoming superhuman. Six million dollars worth. Every extra pain meant I was nearing the completion of my transformation. Making the bionic man sound as I ran home in slow motion seemed to help too! 'Shuh nuh nuh nuh nuh nuh nuh nuh'.
Jump to now. Seeing the photos of the runners completing the Run Britannia LEJOG last year definitely triggered something around these childhood memories as I became increasingly hooked on wanting to do the run myself. Could I actually do what my childhood self wanted to? (Any psychologists out there feel free to comment).
One thing I've realised is that you don't need to be superhuman. Commit. Learn. Plan. Train. Test out. Be patient. Perform. Easy?
Training is still going ok. Still rehabbing, with core work, so it's small steps forward. But forwards it is. And now I've found a coach who's helping me with the plan. Someone who understands the challenge and has helped someone else run LEJOG in the past. I need all the help I can get. And writing this blog is me continuing to commit.
But the important uncertainty is not whether I'll make it to John O'Groats or even to the start line, it's whether my childhood delusions were actually real? Maybe the pains I'm getting now (and I'm getting plenty) are my superhuman transformation this time round? That's the six million dollar question.
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