Thar be piskies up to Dartymoor...

...An’ tidden gude yew zay there bain’t.

I’ve felt ’em grawpin’ at my heart,

 I’ve heard their voices callin’ faint

The Dartmoor Highground was in the right place at the right time in every way. With Spartathlon 4 weeks away I had Carte Blanche from James to run a race that weekend provided it wasn't much over 100km and was going to be training rather than all out racing. 

For the past 5 years I've lived on South Dartmoor, running the tracks and trails around Burrator Reservoir, Princetown and the Walkham valley. These trails had become my second home and, after my fracture, my rehab playground. From hopping one-legged across Yelverton Airfield on crutches to marching along the Walkham trail in my squeaky Donjoy brace, the call of these trails was what got me off my bed and back outside in those early post-injury days, when I felt that my world had crumbled beneath me. I love the open expanses and freedom of the moor. Since my early teens my nickname has been Pixie...I feel at home in the open wilderness.

However, I am also a creature of habit, and poor at navigation to say the least. There were times I would stare out over the moor, longing to just take off, but knowing full well the ease at which the familiar landmarks distort and disappear, and how quickly I would become inextricably lost. With a very real risk of being 'Pixie led' (http://www.legendarydartmoor.co.uk/piskie_led.htm),  my forays into the moor have been limited to the outskirts around my home. 

So the chance to run on Dartmoor, that beautiful, wild and untamed expanse, but on a fully marked and supported route...that sounded too good to be true!

But it wasn't. Thanks to the Freedom Racing crew. They have made the dream come true with this race. 50 miles of open moor. Slogs across bogs, scrambles and climbs up the highest tors, bouldery yet runnable descents to soggy river crossings. This was like a cross between mountain and fell racing. But fully marked! And WHAT markings! The challenge on this route would have been to manage to get lost! There wasn't one point that I wasn't sure of where to go. For me, someone who loves to just run unencumbered by the worry of 'where to', this really was a dream come true. 

An early start was worth it for this sunrise

The race started early, and the beauty of this was that we were treated to a spectacular sunrise across Yes Tor. Bathed in orange light we started the first climb. Tom Sutton (Race Director) had made his way to the first major turn in the route to make sure no one missed it. This attitude pretty much sums up the Freedom racing team. Running their race you are in experienced, capable and very caring hands. 

Boudicca the Bionic Knee takes on the first tor

The first loop was mostly runnable hills and trail. A few stony paths, some lovely grassy downs on the outskirts of Belstone. It eased you into the run in a gentle way. From the first/second checkpoint things got a bit more gnarly. Down one descent I lost a shoe in the sucking peaty mud. This then gave way to more brutal climbs. Although shorter in distance than some climbs in the Peaks and Lakes, Dartmoor Tors have no real paths up them. The ground underfoot is reed and long grass, tussocks, bogs and boulders. You have to focus, pick up your feet, really concentrate on the best line of attack. Sometimes you feel like you should be running, the gradient isn't that steep, but the ground underfoot is so technical you simply can't. It plays tricks on you. 

Down the descent onto the third section I passed the marathon runners coming up the climb. I really enjoy races where there's a bit of a cross-over of courses. It's a chance to give and receive some love from fellow runners. My shouts of 'crack on guys!' were met with yells back of 'you're flying!'. Real camaraderie from people in simultaneously the depths of misery and heights of euphoria! 

The final section was, for me, a mixture of a tough energy-less drag followed ultimately by total freedom. I found out at checkpoint 4 that I was in the lead. I knew Adam Holland was running this race, and having seen a tall dark figure sprinting off at the start, had assumed he was still ahead. Having never met him, I didn't realise that he was the guy who I had overtaken at about 30 miles. When I found out I was now ahead of him, I started looking back over my shoulder. The trouble was, I also didn't realise that the marathon runners would by now be behind me. So I beasted myself up to the final big climb, not realising the dark figures in the distance behind me were actually on the marathon course! I had bonked just before the 4th checkpoint, as I stupidly neglected my fuelling and had wolfed down a load of coke and malt loaf at CP4. This sugar rush kicked in half way up the final big climb. From that point I was flying. Add to that a pretty much entirely down hill 4 miles to the finish...wooHOOOOO!!  The descents on this run were all gloriously runnable. I still struggle with anything very steep and technical, but these were all descents I could really fly down. I was using a pair of shoes given to me by La Sportiva..Helios. They really let me use my feet where my knee starts to get weak. I cruised along the leafy riverside path back to race HQ and the finish, to come first overall in a time of 8hrs 37. Over an hour faster than the guy in second. 

This race was an absolute dream from start to finish. Impeccably organised, in a perfect location and with a course that was so meticulously marked that even I couldn't get lost. I sat with a beer and chips from the café at the finish line, cheering the other runners in, in a happy post-race euphoria. 

Thank you so much Tom and Nicky and all the guys at Freedom Racing. You have created something really special here! 

Thar be piskies up to Dartymoor....

SDW100...I'm back!

Prior to my accident I never used to prepare for races. I'd just enter things, rock up taking my fitness for granted, and run. If I look back now, every race I ran I was woefully underprepared compared to how I've been training in the past few months since my metalwork removal. Under the careful coaching I've had from James, my legs have come back to me far faster than I could have achieved alone. And The races I've done so far, I have been as prepared as possible for. At the shorter distances (marathon), I'm probably running better now than I was back in 2015. But the question-mark over my endurance still remained.

So I lined up at the start of SDW100 uncertain if I could still run that far, but certain that I was as ready as I would ever be at this stage, and knowing that if anything was going to stop me from finishing it would be pure biomechanics due to my right leg weakness and right knee pain.

I started comfortably. I was soon overtaken by Mari Mauland, the favourite for the ladies race. I made a conscious decision to try to keep her pace to see how hard she was going to push. In retrospect, this was stupid. I was so uncertain how my body would hold out in the later stages, I was worried about falling too far behind. The old Sarah used to run to keep pace with the leading runner, and then pull away in the second half when my endurance came into play and I could still run strong in the second 50 miles. I had no idea if I would still be able to do this. So I pushed too hard up to the 22 mile checkpoint. And that was the point that I first threw up.

I've never suffered badly from vomiting during races before, I'm quite lucky. But today was going to be different, and parts of the race became a battle of mind over stomach. From 22 miles I struggled to keep nutrition down. Each time I threw up I felt a little better, which set a dangerous precedent as it encouraged me to keep on vomiting for comfort and prevented me taking on enough calories.

I was terrified that the fast start had scuppered my chances of finishing. Between 30-54 miles I felt dreadful. At 35 miles I saw Jason who was crewing for me. I told him how I was feeling, and his reply was that I was silly to have gone so fast, and had only myself to blame if I'd ruined my run. Tough love. I consciously decided to slow down and do some damage limitation work, ease into a really steady pace, walk a few hills, take regular small sips of coke to keep my sugar levels up. I already felt like I wanted to just lie down and sleep. But, every time I thought how nice that would be, I remembered how much time I had to spend lying down last year, with a big question mark hanging over my ability to run. There was no way anything I could suffer over the course of 100 miles was going to be worse than that. No pain or darkness could be worse than those first few months post-fracture

Each time I passed a checkpoint, someone would say 'Mari is only 5-10 minutes ahead'. But I couldn't and wouldn't chase her. Not if I wanted to stand a chance of finishing. The day was getting hotter and hotter, and the wind was at an angle that was just enough to be a damn nuisance. I was dry, hot and tired, but I carefully plodded my way on to 54 miles, concentrating on making my right leg work (it tends to get really lazy at slower paces, and puts all the effort onto my left which then ends up aching like hell).

At 54 miles I hit the checkpoint, and there was Mari, sitting down. I didn't have much I wanted in my drop bag, I simply couldn't face any more gels. So I had a cup of tea and a marmite sandwich, which miraculously went down nicely! I went straight back out of the checkpoint, and saw Mari get up and head out after me. Sod it, I couldn't race. Not after 54 miles. I could only plod. But my plod suddenly became a lot stronger, my legs picked up a rhythm and I eased into a comfortable cruise. My endurance was kicking in!! It was like greeting a long lost friend who I was afraid had died. I had no idea what my body would make of this distance, having not run over 62 miles in over 18 months. But it was happily easing back into the old habits. I started singing. I talked to my knee. I even managed to crack a joke with Jase at one of the checkpoints. I was RUNNING! Oh, everything was starting to hurt, and I was still intermittently vomiting, my right leg was struggling and cramping in my right calf and quad as the new muscles were introduced to the concept of running beyond 50 miles. But my endurance was still there, a part of me I was so terrified had been lost was waiting patiently underneath, waiting to be given the chance to do its thing. I can't honestly express how happy I felt.

The final 25 miles are a blur. I was really struggling to keep the calories going in. I wanted something, but I had no idea what it was. I practiced a bit of controlled hyperventilation to try to offload some acid which made me feel a little better. The long hills in the last 20 miles let me stride out and use some power in my legs that I had left. The descents were becoming trickier as my right leg was really starting to weaken. At around 90 miles Mati ran past me looking like he was just out for an evening stroll, so comfortable and graceful! I didn't chase him, but I did use his example to put aside the pain I was experiencing into a mental box marked 'problems to deal with tomorrow'.

I sang my way up the final hill, and was directed down the final decent by the heroes at the trigpoint. I wasn't suffering so much that I couldn't marvel at the moon hanging low over the English channel. What a sight!

I couldn't run down that final hill, only slowly sort of skip. It was overgrown, uneven and my right leg was now feeling really weak leaving me at serious risk of falling on the uneven ground. My proprioception still isn't up to running off road in the dark without massive amounts of concentration, and I was so tired I just wasn't up to focusing much. I hit the tarmac at the bottom to find James waiting there for me. Until that point I had no idea what time I was on for, as I had studiously avoided looking at any kind of clock along the way, trying to just run to my own internal pace. He told me I was now at 17hrs 13 mins. I could make it to the end in a faster time than my 2014 effort. And I did. I ran that final mile, ran around the track, and finished in 17hrs 30mins. 6 minutes faster than 2014.

I was an ultra runner once more. And I was performing to a satisfactory level! I was a shade disappointed to not have managed to get closer to or even under the course record, but discovering that my endurance was still there to be tapped into was such a happy revelation. My knee, although struggling a little in the second half, was happily quiet after I finished. Now, a week later, it is still suffering from some ongoing stiffness and the right leg muscles seem to have gone on strike. It's still a learning process as to what it needs to keep it happy and functioning.

Happily, running 100 miles seems to be something that it finds agreeable!

SDW100 - preparation

Since working to come back from my accident I had wanted to aim for something longer, something that would make me feel like I was my old self again. Whilst the metal was in I had no chance, having tried to take part in 24h De Ploeren in December, making it to 105km in 12 hours before the swelling and gait abnormality became too much for my body to manage.

Prior to my metalwork being removed I'd realised that I needed help working out how I was going to get my running fitness and strength back. I had help from physios with regaining my knee mobility and leg strength, but I really needed someone to guide my running build up, to stop me from overdoing things and to make the best out of the (at the time) limited milage I could manage. I contacted James Elson from Centurion Running, and he was happy to offer me coaching. He guided my training with constant feedback from me on the state of my knee and even while the metal was in I felt myself start to run stronger.

Once the metal was out, things improved to such a degree that I felt I wanted to aim for something long as soon as I felt I could make a decent job of it. I was no longer just pushing a broken body around, I was Coming Back from Injury...to me that now meant putting in a good performance. Particularly after I managed to get so close to my old time at MABO. I also felt that I would be better able to manage a longer run with fewer steep decents, those being my real limiting factor at MABO.

I had put my name down for GUCR, and got a place, but that was just going to be too far too soon. Instead I spoke to James about doing the SDW100 - and he didn't say it was a daft idea!! He put it in my training plan as a race and the build up soon began. Aside from a 2 week hiatus when I developed real pain and swelling in the knee which forced me to stop running and get back into the pool (although at the time, I felt this was the beginning of the end again), I managed to put in a fairly consistent effort. My knee pain was, for the most part, manageable. The swelling induced by heavy sessions was offset with some ibuprofen and ice, and consistent gym work allowed me to carry on developing the wasted right leg muscles. I soon learned the importance of continuing my PT exercises...a few days of ignoring my basic static quad sets and it's like the muscle just forgets that it needs to work.

3 weeks before the race James let me test out the knee over a longer distance...Ecotrail Oslo 50 miles. I finished that in first place, with manageable pain, and in a time which was 'adequate' to me. I didn't push myself too hard, just wanted to know I could hold together over that distance without too much fallout. The result was a seemingly happy knee and the ability to go for a slow and comfortable 30 min run a couple of days later...my body was holding up to the distance OK!

So I was as ready as I was ever going to be at this stage. I had a few voices of doubt from some people who know me...was I ready for this? Wasn't it too far too soon? Did I want to risk damaging myself? Each question sowed a little seed of doubt in my head which I found tricky to deal with. But I kept reminding myself, if anything was going to stop me, it was going to be my knee. Not my inability. Not my lack of preparation. and if I couldn't manage this time, then I would just try again after more rehab.

Marato Borriol 2017...so close yet so far!

January 2016 I was told that due to the severity of my knee fracture, I may not be able to compete at trail running again.

December 2016 I received an unexpected Email from Lluis, race director of Marato Borriol:

"Hi Sara
How are you? I hope you are fine.
I'm Lluis, the MABO race director. I write to invite to come here again. I would like see you to run again in Borriol. We can offer a free race registration and accommodation.

Best Wishes, Lluis."

A bit of context: in 2015 I came 3rd lady at MABO. I had applied to run the race late, but Lluis and his team were kind enough to let me run when they looked at my previous performances and saw that I would be racing. I had entered MABO in 2015 for two reasons; One was to increase my experience of mountain racing prior to the World Trail Championships. The second was quite simply as a birthday present to myself. I'm not the kind of person who likes to go out and party hard. A weekend of exploring a part of the world I had never visited before and the change to run around in some new and exciting places is a much more appealing birthday celebration to me. (In fact, my love of endurance running first started when I ran the Jurassic Coast Challenge in 2013 in celebration of my 30th birthday. 3 marathons, 3 days, finishing in Poole, the town in which I was born.)

I was really keen to go back and run MABO again, I had such fond memories of this race, the place, the people, the atmosphere. And it would also be a brilliant opportunity for me to compare my post- to pre-accident performance. But first, there was something I needed to get off my chest....well, off my knee really.

I emailed back and explained to Lluis what had happened to me in the past year, about my accident and how I was waiting for my final operation, and my performance may not be anything like my previous level. He was really understanding, and told me to let him know whenever I could and there would always be a place for me in the race.

Late December 2016 I finally got a date for my operation: 11th of January. That gave me 2 months to recover and get fit in time for MABO. YES, I could do this!! I emailed Lluis and let him know. His reply:

"It's a good notice!"

So 11/1/17 I had my metalwork removed.

                                          Post-op...right before I threw up all over my Dad!

Within 2 weeks I was back on the static bike, aquajogging, elliptical trainer and weights, weights, weights...I was GOING TO MABO! And I was going to do my absolute best. My leg started to work properly for the first time since my fracture, my running pace had improved, my gait was normalising. My 5km time went from 23mins to 21mins 20 secs, just because of the metal removal.

It was just that little aspect of running downhill that was still giving me problems. But I worked at that, I worked so hard! Technical terrain was difficult, but it was still better than pre-op. I was confident that I wouldn't be faced with a repeat of the Mourne Skyline, where I had to take every decent sitting down, sliding down the slopes on my arse because my knee just couldn't handle them.

2 months of training, and I was as ready as I could be at this stage. I had, in my head, set a goal of 5 hrs. Given that my time in 2015 was 5hrs 6 mins, this was optimistic to say the least. But my newfound pace was making me feel invincible!

I travalled to Spain a few day before the race, to give me time to adjust to the climate. Unlike my old attitude to races, where I'd just turn up and have fun, taking my fitness for granted, I was strict with myself leading up to MABO 2017. My diet was good, no alcohol for a week before the race, I tapered (something I NEVER used to do!). I spent the day before the race lurching between excitement at being able to race again, and fear of not being able to complete my mission: to run as my 'old self'. Pre-accident Sarah. This was fear was alleviated a little when Lluis asked me to answer questions for an audience as part of the 'Front runners' line-up. I felt like a bit of a fraud, sitting with the amazing men and women who were in contention to win the race. In particular, Gemma Arenas, the female course record holder. But it was good to be able to explain my story a little and to meet more of the lovely MABO crew.

Race morning.
Lluis had been kind enough to let me stay in his flat while I was in Borriol. I heard his alarm go off at 4:30am. Mine was set for 5:30am. But I had been awake most of the night anyway.

I drank coffee. Lots of coffee. I wandered up to the race start, and the town was already fully awake, the cafes were open, runners milling everywhere. I had another 2 coffees. The Spanish make an espresso to rival the Italians!

We filtered into the staring area, and I tried to find a good spot. Not too far forwards; I didn't want to be caught in the inevitable crazy racing sprint-start. But not too far back; I knew that the trail became singe file pretty quickly and I didn't want to be stuck behind slower runners. I was surprised to see a lot of female runners pushing forward into the front ranks. But then, this was the Spanish Skyrunning champs and there were a lot of contenders for the podium.

A count down from 5 and we were off. Inevitably too fast for my ultra-runner legs, but I didn't want to lose my place on the climb, so I pushed on until we hit trail. Suddenly the air was filled with the scent of rosemary and lavender, crushed beneath our feet. That jolted me back to myself. This was what I had come here for, the experience! Suddenly the fear and doubt were gone, and I was simply running. I didn't have to think about my knee, my lack of ability. 1 year ago they told me I might not run again...and here I was. LIVING the trail.

Despite trying to stay fairly far forward I was soon caught in the inevitable conga line as the trail narrowed. The first climb was real hands and knees stuff, but slowed by sheer volume of people. After about 30 minutes of shuffling the trail opened out and I was able to move forwards at my own pace. I felt pretty good, and the initial decents were all easily runnable. I just enjoyed the feeling of pushing myself where I couldn't before. I allowed myself to breath hard and to really push my legs in a way I just couldn't while the metal had been in my knee.

After about 13 miles we hit the first really technical section, and I inevitably slowed. I just can't bounce off things with any confidence like I used to . I was passed by a few people I had previously overtaken. I found this really frustrating. The problem is, I can't run down anything technical without concentrating really hard. Every footfall has to be planned, as I lack the proprioception in my right leg to run without thought. Add to that the frequent stops to let people pass me, and pretty soon I was feeling mentally exhausted. I was really glad of the next long climb to allow myself some time to recover and not to have to concentrate for a bit! From that point on it was every down that became more and more exhausting, whilst every climb gave me the chance to move forward, push my lungs and recover mentally.

As we hit the ropes section a guy shouted to me that I was in 8th place. Damn! I had been really hoping that I was further up than that. But I knew where I was losing time. I was running without a watch so had no concept of the time that had passed, but I could feel myself losing out on the decents. I pushed hard up the next couple of climbs and overtook a whole bunch of people including one girl. All I could do was keep on pushing up and then try my hardest to keep momentum going down. This was getting trickier and trickier as my knee was really starting to swell and stiffen. At the top of the final climb someone said to me 'hey, it's all downhill from here!'...like that was a good thing! I managed to get down the final hill, when I caught another girl at the bottom. Once we were off the decent my legs picked up and I surged forward, taking her and nearly catching another girl in front as we rounded the corner to the finish.

I looked up at the clock....5 hours 10 minutes exactly. That was such a bitter-sweet time. I knew that if it hadn't been for my knee I could have hit the sub-5 hour time I had hoped for. But, on the other hand, that was only 4 minutes slower than my time in 2015, before my fracture!

So that was it. The run was...amazing. Those climbs, the views, the smells and the overwhelming friendliness of the MABO volunteers and crew! Sure, I was frustrated by my continuing inability due to my knee, but this race marked my first serious effort to perform. And I feel that, despite everything, I did perform. Tentatively, and still uncertain of my ability, but I could have continued on past 26 miles. I could have raced on to 50, and who knows, I may have continued to overtake people as my endurance held out where my knee was failing.

Knowing your weaknesses helps you to find your strength. And when someone tells you that you won't be able to do something, don't take their word for it. Try it for yourself. They could well be wrong.

In anno patellae

1 year ago today I underwent my second fixation for a comminuted patella fracture, having fractured initially on 30/1/16, and then re-fractured on 1/3/16. The bone was in bits, the surgeons were pessimistic about my chances of being able to run again.

Between that fixation and 1/1/17 I have managed to run several parkruns, a few marathons, complete 2 ultras and cover significant distance in other races before having to stop (in the Ridgeway challenge I managed 45 miles and 24hrs de Ploeren I managed 65 miles)

6 weeks ago I had my metalwork removed.

Since then, and having also suffered from a surgical wound infection during the recovery phase, I have managed to get back to training, running with an ease I though would never be possible for me again since my fracture. My leg WORKS now.

I am accompanied by pain at every step, but the interesting thing about pain is that when you know the cause, it can be a lot easier to work with.

I still don't know what my future holds in terms of running. But it's looking a hell of a lot brighter than this time last year.

Thank you so much to everyone who has supported me along this journey. You have no idea what each kind and positive word has meant to me. I hope to continue to do you proud.

Catharsis

This is a completely non-constructive and angry blog entry written with the sole intent of allowing me to vent my feelings.

6 months ago I underwent my second fixation. I had a total of 2.5 months non-weight bearing and 4 months non-running. I lost near 95% of my right quad strength. And yet, I look at that time off running...only 4 months....and expect my body to be able to pick up where we left off. Oh, sure, I'd have lost a bit of CV fitness but that would be easy to build up. I know other people who've had 4 months off with knee injury and they've got back to it with no problems.

I've been comparing myself to other people. About the same time as I did my knee, Emelie Fosberg tore her ACL. She's just made an amazing comeback, winning races already. Last year Jo Meek had several months off with injury, and she was winning marathons by the autumn. Why can't I do the same?

Logic tells me it's because of the difference in injury. Logic tells me that I am still functioning on 1.5 legs rather than 2. Logic tells me that it's going to be a long process, and that I need to be patient. It was a fracture, my whole quadriceps mechanism was disrupted, I lost most of the muscle in my right leg.

But I've had enough of logic and patience. I want to be back where I was, going into races to win, running like I'm flying. And I want it now!

So I signed up for the Ridgeway Challenge 86 mile ultramarathon. It was a stupid thing to do, but I had the tantalising memory of my wonderful run at Race to the Stones 2015 in my mind, that memory of just sailing along. I wanted that SO badly.

I didn't get it. I made it to 44 miles, most of it thoroughly miserable at my legs wouldn't allow me to sail. The 'achievable' 10 min mile pace made me exhausted. As my left leg got tired the pain in my right knee got worse and worse and my gait became more and more of a lurch. At 42 miles I had to walk through exhaustion and pain. At 44 miles I stopped. I felt nothing like the old me. Now the races I had started to plan for in the next year seem like a distant and unobtainable goal.

I'm angry. I shouldn't be in this position. I think part of the problem is the bubbling underlying helplessness I feel. Then the anger of the mechanism of injury sets in. I want to scream at the person who did this to me. Shake her and make her see how much mental trauma she's caused me. My entire life has veered off path because of this. Just because of her carelessness.

Then I remember, it's just a knee injury. It's just running. Other people have to deal with so much worse. And I feel overwhelming guilt for being so selfish and childish.

And I go back to my trainers.
And I try again.

Running broken

Once again I've looked back at my blog and realised how long it's been since I updated things. The blog is proving to be really useful to me these days, as I'm back running, but the frustration of how much fitness and endurance I've lost can be overwhelming, so it's really useful to look back and see how far I've come.

Yes, I'm running again. And I have been since the 2nd of June. That was the date of my 3 month follow-up with my consultant. That day I had an x-ray, and, feeling very nervous (I'd been spending a lot of time in the gym and the niggling thought of 'what if I've damaged the fixation' was always at the back of my mind) I asked him if my knee was up to running yet. He pulled a face and told me not to do anything stupid (yeah, as if!!). Later that evening I ran 0.5 of a mile, lurching to one side like a drunk as my right leg had minimal proprioception or strength. It felt so good. Within a week I was back up to one mile. It's painful, always painful, but the pain would never get any worse during a run. Night time was a different matter, and my sleep was now constantly disturbed by a feeling I can only liken to toothache in the knee. Now, 2 months on and that is still the case. I'm hoping that this is partly to do with the metalwork, and that the pain will ease off a lot when this is taken out.

Now I'm back up to running most days, and so far I've managed a max of 18 miles. The thing I'm struggling most with is how SLOW I've become! I used to breeze along at 8 minute mile pace comfortably for a good 20 mile run. That is now a sprint pace that I can maintain for around half a mile before my legs just give up. And hills, I used to sail up a nice hill! Now I can just about plod to the top before I have to stop and let the feeling come back into my legs. And the weird thing is, it's my good leg that gives up first! I went running with Jason and he noticed that my gait was still slightly uneven. I can only assume that this is putting extra stress on my left knee and quad. Anyway, it's intensely frustrating, and for the time being I've given up running with any form of timekeeping or GPS due to the despair I feel when I check my time and find out how slow it is. I work hard, I feel out of breath, my lungs burning and sick to my stomach, and I'm just about hitting a 7mph pace, and for a second I'm disgusted with my body.

It's been hard watching other people I know do races and achieve such amazing things. I've watched races go by, seen course record get broken, seen friends selected to the GB team. Meanwhile I can just about manage my old routes without stopping every mile to rest.

So, I read my blog the other night. And I counted back and realised that it's only been 5 months since my second op and only 3 months since my brace came off. 3 months!!!! I remember the despair, the feeling of loss, the terrifying unknown before me when I lay in ED and they told me just how smashed up my knee was. And now, I'm out running EVERY DAY! I don't think I could have anticipated this back then, and I feel incredibly lucky that everything is actually going so well! When it first happened, I read about the severity of my injury, the biomechanics, the healing process and long term functional limitations and I was prepared to never be able to run properly again. I know that what I should be doing is counting my blessings every single second.

So, here I am, counting my blessings.
If you're reading this, then you're probably one of them.

Dear diary

As I sit here, 3kg ankle weight on my leg, straight-leg raising and munching on a protein bar, I can't believe it's been so long since I last wrote a post.
So much has happened. I'm now walking, brace-free and slowly regaining muscle in my quad. I'm able to swim again and I have the flexion to manage the bike. I've spent more time on the elliptical trainer in the past 4 weeks than I ever wished to experience.

So, as I've been so remiss in posting updates about my experience, here is a brief diary.

14th of April. 6 week follow-up. Consultant said I could start fully weight bearing. I punched the air in excitement and nearly told him that I loved him...embarrassing considering that I used to work for the orthopaedic department. I went for a walk around the hospital. Just because I could. I spent the rest of the day with mum, walking around with both crutches, occasionally reducing down to one crutch whilst shouting 'mum, mum look at me!!' Must of been like having a toddler again for her! When I got home, I made cup after cup of tea and carried them around the house, just because I could.

15th of April. Went to the gym with both legs working. Got on the elliptical trainer. Got off again. Got back on again. Got off again. Finally got on and did 5 minutes. It felt weird and naughty. Stuck to the rowing machine for the rest of the week.

17th of April. Went for a WALK on the COASTPATH with my dad. Still using both crutches, but I felt like I was free.

18th of April. Got Jase to drop me off 2 miles before work and walked the rest of the way in.

17th April. Went for a proper off-road walk around one of my shorter running routes. Cried a lot.

22-24th of April. Did my first full weekend on call. I can't describe how wonderful it felt to be doing clinical work again. I love my job.

25th of April. My brace developed a squeak. I don't think they're designed to do quite as much as I'd been doing with it. It was due to be off completetly on the 28th, so I decided to ditch it a couple of days early. I was finally BRACE FREE!! Had my first physio appointment, he gave me a load of exercises to help develop my quad. It wasn't until this appointment that I realised how little function I had in this leg. I could balance on it for about 5 seconds, but it was like I was standing on a wobble-board I was so unsteady.

26th of April. Got back in the pool. Swimming was fairly alright really, as I don't use my legs a lot anyway. Managed 1km without too much of a problem.

28th of April. Went for my first walk without a brace. Decided (probably stupidly) to leave my crutches at home and only use walking poles. And to wear a 10kg weighted pack. 7 miles later and I thought my leg was going to drop off.

30th of April. This was the weekend that I should have been up in Scotland running the Hoka Highland Fling for the GB trail team selection. It was also the weekend of the TP100, and someone running it beat my previous centurion 100 record of 16hrs 13 minutes with a new record of 16 hours. I spent a lot of this weekend in tears.

7th of May. Went for a row out in the gig followed by a swim in the sea. All the while, all I could do was stare at the coastpath and wish that I was running it.

11th of May. Went out on my mountain bike for the first time. It felt great to be outside, but I hurt a lot afterwards. Realised how much further I had to go with this rehab lark.

It's been an emotional rollercoaster, punctuated with highs as I progress on to new things and lows as I inevitably do too much and my knee starts to hurt like hell. When I get pain, I start to despair and feel like I'll never run again. Sometimes I end up in a panic that I've caused further damage. I have a whole host of caring friends and family telling me to take it easy. If only it was that simple. I'm still having to make use of my designated sad time to help me deal with this.

So, onwards. For now I'm mainly focusing on trying to regain muscle and function. I'm back to swimming a lot as it's the only exercise I can really throw myself into without the fear of damage.

It's a long long road.

Big gym

It's been a busy week, which is brilliant, makes time pass so much faster! I'm now 3 weeks from my second operation with only 3 weeks to go until (hopefully) I can start rehab!!

Monday, I went back to work, for the second time. I was so happy to be back again, I was really worried that after my re-fracture they wouldn't let me back on crutches. It felt great to be back again (again!). Friendly faces, hugs from friends and colleagues, feeling like I had purpose. Moving around in the hospital still fills me with a lot of anxiety, and so I'm lucky to be allowed to stay in one place doing discharge paperwork.

Tuesday was my birthday. I had been a bit worried about this, as every year since I turned 30 I've done a race to mark my birthday. I was prepared to feel quite sad this year. However, I had promised myself that I would enjoy the day the best I could, and try not to worry! This started with me having chocolate cake in bed at 5:30am. I've been trying to go easy on cake since this accident happened. For the past few years I've taken for granted the fact that my daily calorie expenditure is such that I can eat anything I like. Without this to fall back on I've been far stricter with my diet. But, it was my birthday, so I was going to eat whatever the hell I wanted with no guilt. And I did, I really did!! The day finished with a meal at 15 with Jason and my Mum and Dad. It was wonderful! If I'm honest, I think I probably enjoyed all the food even more than usual because it was such a treat now that I'm being more careful of what I eat!

And, to top off a fantastic birthday week, on Thursday morning at 6:30am (which was our normal routine) Jason took me to the gym. I cannot express my excitement. I've been regularly going to the gym in the morning before work for the past 4 years, so I know a lot of the other regulars. Jason had told a lot of them about my accident, so I didn't have to go through the story again and again, I just got loads of good wishes and people saying how amazing it was that I was going to the gym on one leg which made me feel really good about myself. I heard a really encouraging story from one guy there who was once told after a back injury that he would never run again and has since run a 2:40 marathon. All these little bits of positivity help me stay focused on recovery and make me realise that a lot of this will be about what I make of it. I know my patella is rogered. I know the articular surface is messed up and that I'll get problems with arthritis. I know that there were a few bits of it that were so smashed that they had to be removed or just left with no fixation because they were too small to fix. But I also know that every race I've run in the past year, I've run with screaming pain in my back and right hamstring, pain which I have just learned to put up with. If I can put up with that, then I can also put up with whatever pain I'm left with when this knee is healed. For me, pain is part of endurance running, and something to expect and deal with mentally.

In the gym I put one-legged erging to the test. The trick is to have a towel under your bad foot which lets it slide along the floor with no resistance. Then you can just ignore this leg, letting it slide back and forward whilst you row with your good leg, arms and torso. I  imagine it's probably the most 'whole-body' workout that you can get whilst on one leg. I can manage this for about 30 minutes before my left leg starts to really cramp up from the intense work and unaccustomed position.  After this I spent some time playing with the hand cycle in the gym which is a really massive version of my one at home, and gives a really good high intensity workout.
I could have stayed in the gym playing on stuff all day, I finally felt like I was at least a fraction of the athlete I was before this happened. I went back on the Friday for more!

So, now I know what's possible, I'll see you down the gym!

Angels without wings.

2016 has not been a good year for me so far. I'm hoping that I've paid my dues to whatever aspect of fate I owe, my run of bad luck is over and I can just get on with my life now. I suppose none of us knows what fate has in store for us. Despite that fact that I participate in relatively extreme sports I never saw myself sustaining an injury that would have such an impact on my life.

On the other hand, I am very lucky. Last week in Plymouth a cyclist the same age as me was killed by a dangerous driver. I know from the state of my bike, cycle helmet and patella that if I had landed differently I could have sustained far more serious injuries. My head smashed the drivers windscreen as I went over her bonnet and I escaped with whiplash alone, not even a concussion. Jason frequently reminds me how different that call he received from the police could have been...

Counting my blessings helps me through the difficult periods, the days that I cry and cry and just long to put on my trainers and run out of the front door. If I can just bear this period of recovery, then I will be able to get back to my normal life. Even if that no longer includes competitive running, there is so much that I can do. Had I landed differently during the accident then I might not have had that option.

But counting my blessings  alone is not what is getting me through this. It's you. Whoever you are, reading this, giving me positive input no matter how small.

I am truly lucky to be surrounded by such wonderful people. From the moment that this injury occurred I have had people beside me, supporting me, holding me up when I'm down. My wonderful parents; Dad who has put up with my constant questioning about whether he thinks the bone is healing properly, Mum who has looked after me as if I was 10 again, driving me to appointments and caring for me like only a mother could. My ever-patient husband who has dealt with my frequent and dramatic mood swings, my fears and my pain.

And my amazing circle of friends, constantly giving me encouragement, wishing me well, offering to help me out wherever they can.  I have received such amazing quantities of love over the past few weeks. I don't think I could ever express what you have done for me, and the words 'thank you' just seem so inadequate.

So, this blog post is by way of a 'thank you' card to each and every one of you. It's not enough, and no amount of thanks ever could be, but it'll have to do.

Flexion mark 2.

Thursday 17th March - 7 weeks post-accident, 2 weeks post re-fracture with 4 weeks on crutches NWB left to go (provided I don't balls it up again). My clips from my second operation came out, and my brace was set to 40 degrees. My poor knee. 7 weeks during which the greatest percentage of time has been fixed in extension. This joint has become fixed nearly solid. I've been desperate to flex the joint. I'm convinced that most of the pain I've been getting for the past week has been due to stiffness not the fracture. When the brace reset, I made it to 10 degrees, and stopped. The only thing I can compare the feeling to is trying to bend one of your fingers back into forced extension. It won't go, and it feels like it shouldn't. In the case of your finger, that's because it's not meant to. In the case of my knee, it's because scar tissue and swelling are causing the joint to fix. I've spent the past 24 hours easing it into flexion, and now make it to 30 degrees, but it feels painful and tight. In honesty, I've probably overdone it, but I'm feeling particularly impatient at the moment.

My mood swings are still quite intense, the days at home along are long and tedious. My underlying depression gives me significant diurnal mood variation, so mornings are my best times. I'm countering this by doing all my exercises in the afternoon to try to balance my mood as best I can. The next 3 weeks should be better, as Jason is on holiday and so I won't have long periods of time alone.

I've been trying to improve my static exercise routine. I've been using the hand bike for at least 30 minutes each day, spending at least 15 minutes doing core exercises, focusing particularly on my right leg gluts and hamstring as well as my abs. I'm also able to get back on my turbo trainer now I've got some movement in the knee. I'm managing to maintain my weight pretty well. I've lost 2kg, which I attribute to the loss of muscle from my right leg, but my general shape is staying pretty static apart from an increase in the size of my arms and shoulders.

So, a bit more about static exercising.
Hand bike. I thoroughly recommend this to anyone who is immobilised for any period of time. You can get a whole range of styles. Mine cost around £50 from Amazon and has a basic resistance dial and a LCD screen which scrolls through time, rotations, distance in KM and calories. It sits comfortably on my kitchen table, and is easy to put away afterwards. The highest resistance setting isn't that taxing, but by varying resistance and RPM for periods of time you can get something akin to a spin session. You can also vary your arm and body movements as you 'pedal' so you can work your torso quite well (it's an action similar to hoola-hooping!)

I can't recommend this gadget highly enough, it makes it possible to get an aerobic work-out whilst sitting down.

Positives:
Working out a way to use my exercise regimes to balance my mood swings.
Managing to get from 10 to 40 degrees of flexion over 24 hours though a combination of gradual work and regular icing.
Finally having a shower! (now my surgical clips are out, I can sit in the bath with my brace off and shower. It felt AMAZING!)

Plodding.

It's been 12 days since my second operation. 12. Long. Days.

I'm struggling mentally to cope with the immobility this time round. Every day stretches out to eternity and I find it hard to deal with the time laid out in front of me until I can get back on 2 feet. I feel like I'm in a terrible never-ending limbo of misery and despair and I have spent an awful lot of time in tears (I'm actually crying as I write this). I've also started to suffer from real anxiety around mobilising, out of fear of falling again. I find it hard to be in public places for a similar reason, just in case someone bumps into me. And every time I get a twinge in my knee I become paranoid that the bone is becoming avascular and the healing process is failing. My GP has increased my antidepressant medication and added in a second agent to help me get through this period. I'm not sure that it's having any effect.

In short, I'm a bit of a mess.

So I've mostly been at home. I did venture out last Saturday, under the comforting and watchful eye of my wonderful mother. We went singing for the day, and it was wonderful to be doing something different. East Cornwall Bach choir put on a 'come and sing' day. We met at 10am, spent the day rehearsing Mozart's Requiem, and then sang the full work in the evening. By the end of the day I was exhausted, but it gave me a lift to have been doing something, focusing and then performing. I'd forgotten how much singing means to me.

I'm slowly getting back to my pre-fall static training. Initially I just started on my hand bike. That was about 7 days postop. The first time I did 20 minutes, I slept for 3 hours afterwards. It's amazing the demands healing makes on your body! The handbike helps me to work up a bit of a sweat, and I can now do 40 minutes straight (time mainly limited by the need to move my leg after this long). I can't manage to get onto my turbo trainer yet (my leg is still fixed in extension), but I'm now able to get onto the floor again, and so can do a range of core exercises. I've also been trying to focus on my right leg gluts, abductors and hamstrings, because I'm going to need some serious support from whatever muscle groups are left in this leg after 11 weeks non-weigh-bearing.

I'm also focusing on trying to keep my diet healthy with each meal providing high protein and eating lots of raw veg for vitamin content.

So, I'm getting there, but by Gods it's slow. This Thursday my surgical clips come out. Then I face another month on crutches before I can start physio. Of course, there's always the chance that I'll have gone insane by then!

Positives:
Spending the day singing with my mum.
Persevering with the static exercises.

On a lighter note..

This morning the following items arrived at my bedside courtesy of Jason. He is 'optimising my nutritional intake to get me running again' (his exact words)!

Then a second item appeared. This is, apparently, 'all about the presentation which is everything, look, I've used some leaves off a coconut, or a pineapple, or some kind of exotic fruit anyway. It makes it look all posh.'

I am lucky on so many levels!

off course

Here we go again.
2 days postop, the pain is very similar to the first time, but I'm managing to keep on top of it with a strictly timed analgesia regime which I didn't do last time. This does mean that i spend most of the day completely spaced out,  but it definately seems to be the best way to manage. Yesterday, before I started taking the pain meds at exact times I lost control of the pain and subsequently spent a good couple of hours crying because it was so severe.

I'm currently struggling with the disappointment that, as a result of this repeat injury,  I have missed my interview for a core medical training post. The deanery and the cmt recruitment people were really helpful and did try to get me a last minute stand alone interview, but in the end it wasn't possible. All I can do is hope that there are posts left that I can apply for through round 2 applications. This setback also means that I won't be able to go to Paris with Jason at the beginning of April to cheer him on in the marathon, as I will now still be non-weight-bearing and travel is too risky.

It's weird being here again, and difficult having to deal with further disappointments.  The only thing feel I can compare it to its getting lost in a race.  In fact,  I have the perfect example. Centurion South Downs Way 50, 2013. My first real ultra.  I had no idea what I would be able to achieve, hoping only for a finish. The weather during the race was atrocious and moving forward was a constant battle against the wind. I managed to climb the rankings throughout the race as my steady plod took me forward through the storm whilst others were picked off by the cold, wind and rain. At 40 miles I overtook the leading female, and was set to come in first, something i could never have imagined possible of myself. Then, at 45 miles I took a wrong turn. The subsequent detour added an hour to my finish time and caused me to lose 1st place, dropping me down into 3rd.  I was unbelievably angry at myself, my stupidity and my carelessness which I felt had lead me to miss the correct route.

This race really does work as a comparison for my experience since the accident. I set out with no idea what function I will achieve at the end of this,  I just hope to finish and be able to run. I have battled against the storm to get myself closer to the finish, and just before I made it i have gone off course and am now having to retrace my steps to find my way back to the correct route, adding a month to my 'finish time' and losing out on 'prizes' as a result (job interview and trip to Paris).

At the moment, I'm struggling to find any positives to take from this setback. But maybe that is ok.  I have worked to stay positive throughout what had happened so far, taking each experience as a chance to learn and develop. But maybe it is acceptable for me to just feel utterly disappointed and overwhelmingly sad about this, and to acknowledge that this setback is really really shit and will impact on my mental state to the point that I may require external help to get through it.
Just for a short time.
But I will become stronger as a result.

Victories
acknowledging that it is acceptable to be disappointed and disheartened when something goes wrong.
Realising that I may need extra help in mentally getting through this setback and acknowledging that there is no shame in asking for help.

I get knocked down.....

I slipped on wet floor in the main concourse in Derriford. My right crutch slid forward and I landed heavily on my right leg, putting all my weight through it. The pain was immediate and intense, and I screamed. Suddenly I was surrounded by people, holding me up, asking if I was ok. All I could do was cry.

 Someone put out a medical assistance call, and the crash team turned up. It was reassuring to see familiar faces, they put me in a wheelchair and took me round to ED where I was met by more familiar faces who put me in a bed and gave me pain relief. But I still just kept on crying.

I sobbed and sobbed while one of the ED consultants gave me the most motherly hug I have ever received from anyone other than my own mother.

My knee was swelling. It was tight, hot, agonisingly painful like a toothache within the joint. I cried, cried, kept on crying. Kirsten came down to ED and sat with me whilst I was clerked, cried, had my xrays, cried, took analgaesia, cried.

Toby, the ortho reg on-call, came to seem me. He looked sadly at me and told me that my xray looked like something had shifted but that he had to discuss it with a consultant. Later he returned with Mr Westwood the on-call consultant who agreed, the fixation had failed, the bone fragments had moved and the wiring was no longer holding them in place. I needed another fixation. I was, essentially, back to where I was on the day of the accident. I cried.

This is a speed-bump. My progress has been slowed, the healing that has occurred to this point has been reversed. But I am holding on to the fact that my position now is no worse than it was when this first happened. This will slow my recovery but it will not stop it, and it will not make me any more or less likely to have lost my ability to run.

And, because I HAVE to let my mind have priority right now, I will also consider these positives:

I have been here before, very recently, and so this time, I am prepared.
I know how to survive the postop period.
I know how to manage the pain, the immobility, the clumsiness.
I am more mentally prepared to manage the despair and frustration.
I have developed activities to keep me as fit as possible whilst immobile.

And most importantly, over the past 4 weeks  I have come to learn that I have a network, a circle, a sea of wonderful friends who have been supporting me every step of the way each in their own individual ways. Friends who have helped me to find worth in myself that I never believed I had.

...so I get up again.

Static exercise set mark 1

Here are some details of my initial 'floor' work outs. All of these can be done without any equipment. I started doing these workouts as soon as the pain allowed me to get onto the floor. I aim to do at least 15 minutes of these a day. I'm now adding in additional workouts that I will include in each subsequent blog.

Issue one: getting down onto the floor.
This can be surprisingly tricky if you're non-weight bearing on one leg. Here's a video of how I managed it. It took me a while and I could only manage this once the pain had eased sufficiently (if I'd tried this in the first 10 days the jolting would have been too much to bear). Once you're on your front, you can then flip over onto your back. I'm limited by the fact that I can't kneel on my good knee either due to the soft tissue injury on that side.

floor sets for core:
Abdominal crunches - you can do these with legs in full extension. you may need some help to stabilise your legs for comfort, but this can be done with no supervision as you become more confident. If like me you're in a Donjoy brace, you may find it helpful to lock it at 0.


Full sit ups - these required a slight flexion in my leg before I could manage. It helps to have someone with you at first to stabilise your legs for you whilst you work to engage your core.

Leg raises - lying on your back, and using your good leg to support your bad leg, raise both legs simultaneously off the floor and lower again. Again, with a Donjoy, it helped me initially to lock it at 0 until I got used to


Abductor set - Lie on one side and raise your upper leg (It was incredibly liberating when I realised just how much mobility I still had in my bad leg. My quads were limited, but everything else could still function very well. Abductors have been the most helpful, particularly in getting into and out of cars.


Static quad - sit upright with legs out in front of you. With your good leg, press the back of your knee joint into the floor. Now try to repeat that with your bad leg. You should see your kneecap moving upwards as the quad muscle comes into play. You can play around with this exercise. Try engaging the muscle and holding, or doing a set of reps where you engage then release.

0-70 in 10 seconds

I reset my brace!

Since my operation I've had:
weeks 1-2 leg locked in extension
Weeks 2-4 knee flexion limited from 0-30 degrees.

Now, my brace is set to allow movement from 0-70 degrees for the next 2 weeks. After that.....well, that all depends on what my 6 week follow-up appointment brings and how the fixation looks on my 6 week xray. I'm really hopeful that at this point they will say it's ok for me to start working in the pool.

So my knee had been allowed no more than 30 degrees of flexion for the past month. It's still very swollen, the joint isn't really recognisable as a knee yet. The swelling extends around the whole circumference of the joint so the tendons along the back of my knee joint are barely palpable. I knew the swelling would limit my knee movement.

With the brace set at 30, the movement felt quite free and I thought that once the brace was set higher the extra flexion would come fairly easily. But it really didn't! As soon as I tried to flex, my knee pretty much just stopped at 40 degrees. It's a weird sensation, it wasn't exactly pain that stopped it, it just stopped, like something was blocking the joint. I've spent the day gradually easing the joint through the extra degrees of flexion, which has been painful. I've probably overdone it a little, as the joint is feeling pretty hot and tender now. But I can now flex from 0-50 quite freely. The extra 20 degrees require me to ease into it and work at it. I'm going to give it a rest for the evening now and try some ice on the joint to ease this swelling and heat.

As another exciting distraction I got another new bit of static exercise kit today in the form of a hand bike. It sits on the table and you turn the pedals with your arms. I worked out on it for 20 minutes (limited as my shoulders and wrists are suffering a bit from my crutches) and I managed to work up a bit of a sweat!

Next blog will be more details of my current workout sessions for anyone who's interested on how to exercise whilst sitting on your arse!!

Victories:
Not being despondent when my knee didn't instantly flex to 70 degrees, but working the joint slowly until it did.
Being sensible enough to know when to give it a rest.

70 degrees of freedom

Again, the feeling like being a toddler on Christmas eve...
Thursday is the day I get to set my brace from 30 to 70 degrees of flexion.
'Progress!!' my mind screams, and I feel one step closer to running the moors again!

I need something like this this week.. It's spring. Autumn and spring are my favourite times of year to run. The changing weather and with it the changing trails give me a feeling of joy, peace, happiness and makes my soul feel open to the world. It's one of the very few times that I feel part of anything, like I belong to the earth.

So, the recent change in weather, the lengthening evenings, the sprouting plants, the buzz coming up through the earth...and being unable to run on it...it's driving me mad! Like a terrible itch that I just can't scratch, or a glass of water that is just out of my reach!  So far I've been trying to deal with this by burying my head in the sand, keeping the curtains closed, ignoring the sunshine and cursing the singing birds every morning. My weekly alcohol intake has definitely increased as I try to numb the call of the trails.

I've been trying to scratch the itch with my evening workout regime. I've got some pretty good sessions going now, with the help of Jason as a sparring partner. Getting my heart rate up a little and breaking out into a light sweat, it does make me feel a little better and takes my mind off my loss.

But, nothing replaces the trail.
So yesterday I went for a walk. Well, a hop. Off-road. And it was.....well, it was wonderful. I put my long-distance playlist on my MP3 player (lots of hypnotic music. Gregorian chant, Byrd, Tallis, John Tavener and Arvo Paart.). I left the road through our village and I went up one of the trails and through the fields. I got stuck in the mud, I sat on a gate and watched the birds, I washed my crutches in the stream.
And so I discovered that I can find peace and contentment, even when I'm not running. I can even get a fleeting sense of the meditative state that I feel during an ultra. It's a very, very valuable lesson to learn

Always there for me. 

Stuck-in-the-mud

Now, to 70 degrees of flexion, and whatever the next stage of my recovery brings!

Victories:
Learning that I can find at the very least a shadow of my running contentment by being in the right environment, at the right time, with the right music and the right frame of mind.

Things you shouldn't say to an injured runner - warning, sense of humour failure!

Below are a selection of comments I've had from a few *less than* thoughtful people since this happened (none of whom are at all likely to be people who would read this blog which is why I'm happy to publish them!)

In each case what I really wanted to do was to pull the person inside my mind and let them feel my pain and loss at not being able to run, and the effect their comment has had on my psyche. Or maybe to invite them to witness me sobbing uncontrollably during my designated 'sadness' times. Then maybe just think a little.


1. 'It's the worst patella fracture I've ever seen. This is going to really affect your running.'
This statement comes under the headings 'blunt' 'thoughtless' and 'stating the bloody obvious'. Yes, my entire knee is going to function differently. And you think that will impact on my ability to run? Wow, you frickin' genius.

2. 'At least you'll lose that terrible gaunt runner physique, and become more womanly.'
So I'm going to be unable to run, AND I'll get fat? Double whammy saying this to a runner who used to be anorexic!

3. 'All that training and you won't be able to compete this year'
Yes, I had realised that, but thanks SO much for reminding me.

4. 'Well that's your cardiovascular fitness out of the window. No amount of weight training can maintain that without your running'
And my resting heart rate used to be 45 and is currently 70. How about you give me another kick while I'm down?

5. 'Hey, tried running yet' - followed by a wink and a laugh
No. No I haven't. I'm not weight bearing, my knee is only flexed to a max of 30 degrees, and I know that it's going to be another 4-6 months before I can even contemplate this. But, hey, GREAT joke!! What do you mean, 'sense of humour failure'?!

Each of these comments has elicited the same response from me. 'Yes, it is terrible. But it could have been worse, I could have cracked my skull open or snapped my neck'.

In short, we runners are a physically tough but sometimes emotionally sensitive breed, and sometimes, just sometimes, it's better to think about the impact of what you're saying on a delicate and endorphin-deficient mental state.
Rant over.

Short and SWEET!

Oh by all the Gods, I just managed my first straight leg raise!!
And then managed 2 more!!!!

It's the little things that are now a massive deal to me!
I'm going to have a beer to celebrate!

Quads-r-us!