Tonky Talk
Paul is back. Sort of
Two steps forward, one step back. Training had been going well and form had been returning, slowly but surely. I had started to remember who I was as a runner; after months of work, I felt I was making progress. I did a cross-country race – loved it. Beating a couple of runners in the last 600m or so felt great, like a tide beginning to turn. Then I began to rise up the pack at the track on Tuesdays, at least for a couple of weeks. For the first time in a year I was starting to get near six minutes for some of the mile reps. I was fading quickly after that, but the sense of embarrassment was fading, too. Momentum had kicked in. That’s the crack isn’t it? You get fitter and remember what it was like to feel that way. So you commit a little more.
I did a parkrun and went under 20 minutes for the first time in a while. Nowhere near my fastest but approaching the feeling I loved. Something subtle was changing in my running style, a sign I’m getting fitter, bouncing a bit more in the stride. Watching runners, I notice that the further up the field, the more bouncy it all gets; the forward thrust is more apparent. As you move down the field – I’ve noticed it in myself – it seems to be more about economy. A feeling of, ‘I’m trying to run as fast as I can but my focus is to expand as little energy as possible.’ You see more scuttling, low knees and arms. That’s my natural marathon stride – lots of short, quick steps – but for the shorter distances I was loosening up more – longer strides, relaxed shoulders. It was all very exciting. Thoughts of getting faster were nibbling away at my subconscious.
The experienced among you will know this is a dangerous time. I was still coming back from a summer curtailed by surgery and back problems. I still have to stretch before I get out of bed, for goodness sake. Also, my lifestyle is not always conducive to running hard. Warning signs have surfaced. One club night, I felt a twinge in my hamstring halfway through a mile rep. I pulled up, stretched, rested, then did another rep. It was OK, though; I got away with it.
That weekend, I gigged in Stoke on Friday and Saturday, but drove back to London to do a 10K on Saturday morning. It was worth it; the 10K was a huge leap in the right direction – I raced through 5K in about 19:40, then slowing, but still – 40:19. This was good. Not fast fast, for me, but getting there. I was feeling tired but happy, streamlined and back on form. I wanted to make plans. I put the Manchester Marathon in the diary. I would ramp up my mileage, then buy some performance-enhancing race flats and go for it. These feelings are intensified with age. There are not many opportunities left for a fast marathon. I’m in the last-chance saloon; in fact, it’s last orders and I’m clawing at the bar as the bouncer – Father Time – tries to drag me out.
The following Tuesday I pulled a calf on the fifth rep of a set of 800m repeats. It was awful. I’d been flying: 2:58-59s. Not back back, but on the way. It was a dull ache, and though there was no dreaded ping, I had to stop; the next day, I was limping.
My physio mate says it would be seven to eight days off. Not fatal, but a warning. What did I do wrong? Was I coming back too quick? Not enough rest? Was it the driving, the 12 hours behind a wheel at the weekend, all that calf work on the accelerator?
It’s obvious I’m going to have to start stretching when I drive. My body has remembered how to run faster, but I’m going to have to look after it.
Still, new year, new me, and all that. If I stretch more, and if I can stay off the booze (which I’m getting much better at) and strike the right balance between the mileage and the speedwork, I’m confident that – if these Vaporflys are all everyone is saying they are – I can run faster this year. Good luck to us all in 2020!
Check out Paul and fellow comedian
Rob Deering’s running podcast, Running Commentary – available on iTunes and Acast. @RunComPod