Tag: Running

Life with a tiny dictator

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Well that was left as a bit of a cliffhanger wasn’t it? Five days until due date and then no word for nine weeks… First of all you can rest assured that I’m not some kind of medical miracle and I haven’t gone nine weeks overdue. I was grumpy enough at five days over and would more than likely have killed someone by now if I was still full of baby.

To cut a long story short and avoid going into too much detail (when you’re pregnant, the simple question “how are you?” elicits a Pavlovian response to hand over a pot of wee and start discussing your, as the daytime telly adverts put it, ‘intimate area’), I had a little ‘encouragement’ from the midwife on Friday morning and labour started that afternoon. I did however, remain in denial about this (convinced that my contractions were Braxton Hicks) until the evening when Ginge pretty much gave me an ultimatum to ring the midwives or else. Eventually I did ring the midwives and (after a warm bath, some paracetamol and a TENS machine) was admitted an hour later.

The birth itself didn’t exactly go according to plan, but I assume that very few people’s plans end up with a set of forceps being wielded by a gentleman that your mum would later refer to as “Doctor Big Hands”… Personally I was well away on the gas and air, so it all flew by for me and it was poor Ginge and my mum who suffered (their hands are still recovering from the Incredible Hulk-like squeezes I gave them).

So from that initial phone call at 7.30pm on Friday, via a birthing pool, a blue-lit ambulance up the M6 (at the slightest hint of risk they transfer from the midwife-led unit to the delivery suite at another hospital), a midwife who broke half the the room, Dr Big Hands, another more fabulous less cack-handed midwife and her student, and Ginge cutting the cord, at 8.34 on Saturday 12th October we became very proud parents to a 6lb 11oz baby boy.

Hal (or as he will be referred to on here, Mini Ginge) is a lovely little chap who is very laid back as long as the milky buffet isn’t too far away. However, although he is only tiny, he completely rules the roost (and quite rightly so).

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One of the reasons for my lack of posts is that I was planning to write about his arrival and then at week six, document my triumphant return to running. Unfortunately at week 6 I was being advised by both my GP and my physio that high-impact exercise shouldn’t feature in my life for at least 3-6 months. I shall explain more about this when I have decided how much information is too much information…

Counting down – more running and pregnancy comparisons…

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I have less than two weeks to go until my Expected Date of Confinement (when I expect to be swept behind some heavy velvet curtains and only receive visitors by appointment) and I’ve been musing about the similarities between this point of pregnancy and running. Clearly this has little to do with my physical appearance and abilities (I nearly got stuck under the stairs the other day) but bear with me.

Taper Madness
If you taper before a long race, you inevitably go a bit stir crazy. I have been stuck in the house waiting for deliveries (which I appreciate is somewhat apt…) and workmen, which does little for my mental health at the best of times. I want to be doing stuff but circumstances, tiredness and risk assessments (getting stuck under the stairs again would be embarassing) mean that I can’t. There is this a nagging feeling that I should be doing something. I don’t like enforced not doing stuff, however choosing not to do stuff is different….

Good intentions
As race day approaches I always have good intentions. I intend to eat well, abstain from alcohol, stretch, roll and cross train my little heart out. Inevitably, none of this happens. At the moment, I intend to do some yoga at home, practise my breathing and get to grips with my tens machine. Inevitably, none of this has happened. I can’t blame not having enough time to do this, I am just procrastinating.

Acute hypochondriasis
Alongside taper madness sit a few nice imaginary ailments. Am I getting a cold? Is that a niggle in my back/hip/foot? Does my knee always make that noise when I do that with it? Pregnancy is just the same. I have been fit and well for the last 38 weeks and yet in the last few, I have self-diagnosed invented pre-eclampsia (bit of a headache), symphysis pubis dysfunction (been sitting in a funny position for too long) and DVT (wearing unfamiliar heels to a wedding). Add to that the fact that at this point every twinge could be the onset of labour (especially at two in the morning…) and it’s all one big bucket of fun.

Making comparisons
I know that we all run our own races, but it’s easy to get sucked into comparing ourselves with other runners (and usually not coming out well). We choose our training plans, we do what’s right for us…but then we talk to someone else and the self doubt kicks in – should I be doing something else…? Have I made the right choices…? Have I done enough…? Physical comparisons are also hard to avoid; it’s funny, as soon as you get pregnant there are pregnant women everywhere and you start looking at their bumps. I love my bump, but it was a watershed moment when I looked round the ante-natal yoga class and realised that I was the biggest one there that day (I’m also the next but one due date which is even scarier…).

Getting familiar with race day
Whilst I can plan my race day strategy as much as I want, I have absolutely no control of what happens on the day. What we have done though is get to know the course metaphorically (by going to our ante-natal classes) and actually (by visiting both of the maternity units that I might go into). Having worked at both the hospitals, I knew whereabouts in the building they are (and more importantly, where they are in relation to the canteen) but nothing about what goes on in the unit. If you’re expecting, I would definitely advice having a look round your maternity units just because it means there’s one less unknown to worry about. Also, check the parking situation and start saving up when you have your twelve week scan…

Waddle, waddle, splash

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I appreciate that pregnancy is a binary state – you either are or you aren’t, there’s no being ‘a bit pregnan’t – but over the last week or so, I have felt Very Pregnant. Certain movements, bending forward to reach something when I’m sitting down for instance, are somewhat hit and miss and are often accompanied by a chorus of ‘ooooofs’, ‘bloody hells’, or sometimes even ‘ooooof, bloody hell’.

It’s a bit of a cliche, but one of the times where I feel slightly less lumbering is in the swimming pool. Just as the penguin is a bit ungainly and waddly on land, but sleek and gymnastic in the water, I am a bit ungainly and waddly on land, but a bit less ungainly and waddly in the water. I am still managing a nice 20 lengths on my trips to the baths, albeit a bit slower than before, and am now 65% escaped from Alcatraz. I think I would like to complete my daring swim to freedom by my due date.

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Me at the pool

Over the last couple of weeks I’ve also been looking ahead and doing some forward planning (conveniently ignoring the last couple of weeks of pregnancy, the actual birth and the first couple of months with a newborn baby). This has partly been triggered by other bloggers (particularly the inspiring words of I run because I love food) and hearing about Australian cricketer Sarah Elliott, who was back in the gym after six weeks and scored a Test century in between breastfeeding. I will concede that it’s probably a bit late in the day for me to contemplate an international sporting career and if I’m totally honest, at the moment the concept of running for a bus is as unimaginable as running an ultra. However, there’s only me that can make it happen when the right time comes and so I’ve been pondering my return.

My ultimate goal is an autumn half (to keep up my ‘half-marathon a year’ that I’ve done accidentally for the last three years). This might be helped along by the Lancaster Race Series Wagon and Horses 10 miler. We were up in Lancaster a couple of weeks ago when we saw the organisers setting up this year’s race, and I’ve always got time for an event that starts and finishes at a pub…

The other news that’s made me a bit excited is that I have a new local parkrun at Cuerden Valley. The inaugural event was last Sunday and I did consider having a waddle down, only to fall asleep instead. I’m not sure how the route works, but it looks intriguing and I assume that it will be somewhat undulating. Either way it’s a lovely setting for a run (it’s where I did one of the Badger 10k series  and I last ran there in the snow during this year’s Janathon) – country park rather than municipal park, and it’s handily close to the M6 for all you parkrun tourists out there.

Juneathon day seven: moo

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It doesn’t happen often, but sometimes I amaze myself by getting out of bed. Alright so I get up most, if not all mornings (I’m suddenly reminded of a spectacularly bad bank holiday hangover last year), but even though I’m quite a morning person, the lure of the snooze button is great. However, some days I wake up before the alarm goes off, practically spring out of bed and just crack on with my run or whatever I’m supposed to be doing. This morning was one of those mornings – it saw me out of the door by 5.45 and rewarded by some of the best running that I’ve enjoyed recently.

My plan was an out and back run/walk for 30 minutes. When I take photos on out and backs, I usually try to take my photos on the way back so I get a bit of consistency in my running rather than being all stop-start when I set off. Today I regretted that decision a little. The calves that I’d spotted on the way out had conspired and decided to move from the middle of the wide open field and had huddled next to the hedge instead. A bit of clambering later and I managed to get one reasonable photo (and only some minor nettle stings on my shin).

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I reached the half hour mark just before home and felt ok in my legs, chest and belly so I carried on and rounded up to three miles.

Oh, and I’m not really one for bump shots but, just as I do a double take every time I pass my reflection, my shadow took me a little by surprise this morning.

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On borrowed time…

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Due to a combination of holidays (more on that to follow), recovering from holidays and (if I’m honest) just generally slacking a bit, I hadn’t run since the Liverpool 10k. That’s two and a bit weeks of postponing my glorious return to action because I wasn’t sure just how glorious it would be. I’m now halfway through this pregnancy lark, finally starting to show a bit, but also noticing a general change in my fitness. It might just be that I haven’t been doing enough exercise, but I’ve skived off plenty of times in the past and not noticed this big a change.

It really hit home on holiday in Boston. We walked for miles (which was fine) but I started to notice that climbing stairs was starting to leave me feeling out of breath and a bit wonky. Deciding to climb the Bunker Hill Monument (294 steps…) probably wasn’t my best idea. To be fair, initially I did say that Ginge should go up on his own and I’d look at the photos, but I hate the idea of missing out on something exciting. So I climbed it, eventually reaching the top red-faced and glowing like a shire horse.

What I climbed.

What I climbed.

I was not a happy bunny. “You wouldn’t believe I ran a half-marathon last month” I muttered, “look at me”. The realisation dawned that I might be on borrowed time as far as running is concerned.

Today’s effort confirmed that run-walking is now the order of the day.  Ginge joined me on a canal run on which I chose the route (up hill through a series of locks) and then announced “I’m not very good with hills. Or inclines. Or slopes. Or bridges”.  There was a lot of run-walking on the way out, but I was chuffed to discover that on the return downhill, I managed it all in one go (albeit at a much slower pace and with a much redder face than normal). My plan is to stop running when it’s either too uncomfortable or I don’t enjoy it (and presumably, if it’s too uncomfortable I won’t enjoy it anyway…). I suppose technically I have had my Last Run (managing any kind of distance without walking) but if you don’t mind, I’ll keep calling my run-walking ‘running’ because it’s easier and makes me feel better.

In the meantime, I have renewed my gym membership (with an option to take a break for a few months) and I’ve (foolishly) signed up for Juneathon so that’s some more motivation to keep myself active.