Conflicting feelings

The week ends with mixed feelings.

The body weight experiment has yielded some results. I've got back to the 60kg marks. However, it hasn't bore the expected results: yesterday I went for the usual 5km ParkRun, and scrapped a very modest 17'52''. Again I mismanaged the whole business - didn't hook up with the fast kids in front of me from the start, ended up chasing them for a couple of km, seeing them getting smaller and smaller far ahead of me.. I should have sprinted to catch up with them, and then perhaps collapse without regrets.  Why do I keep getting up early and all the fuss, to then run these anonymous runs?

Most of all, I struggle with motivation. I am not hungry for results, and understandably so. Running is a nice thing, but I cannot turn it into this life-making practice. I have been reading many excellent blogs of people whose life hinges on their running. But my life is too sketchy, I don't even know where I'll be in a couple of years, what job I will have.. I retreat into running in order to hold onto something, to have the illusion that I have a plan, a goal, a challenge to meet. But the challenges are others, I should finally publish my academic articles, get some recognitions, career advancements, feeling of accomplishment.. Even if I ended up running a sub-70mins half marathon, or a sub-32 mins 10k, what change would that make in my life? None whatsoever. I did all that 20 years ago, it's silly to struggle so much just to try to repeat it. At that time, there was a reason to train like crazy every day - and I did not have other responsibilities.

I must strive to be a well-rounded person, learning new skills and improving as a person overall. There are so many things of myself I need to change, and running like a maniac is not going to make any difference on that. This obsession with running is unhealthy, and has got me stuck. I must find an equilibrium between what, at this stage in my life, is nice to do, and what really matters.

Lots of stories, and then 18km

I got on the scale yesterday morning, shortly after sunrise. I like the stillness of the world around me, the gentle light that comes through the window, the singing magpies and the sound of ocean waves from afar, when I step on a weight-measuring device.
It said 65. Bitch. I wondered for a while what the hell was going on in my body. But then the kids got up so I stopped wondering. I went for a good run at lunch time, in Applecross, south of Perth, surrounded by shamelessly massive houses of billionaires who piled up $$$ during the mining boom.

11km in total, following the Swan River. Priceless, like the billionaire houses. At night, I went for a deep tissue massage at a guy who works next door to my house. My calves had been giving me hell since last Sunday's depressing 10k, and are a general daily hassle in my late 30s existence. The masseur, young but competent, said my calves were pretty good, but my feet were tight. In fact, the left arch has been hurting for a while, I think my new Asics Hyperspeed look cool, but are a bit too minimalistic. Most of all, they don't run near as fast as I expected them to! So, 55 bucks later I went back home, with relaxed calves but still a cranky foot.





To deal with that crankiness, I got onto the spikey ball, which my partner bought me one day she was probably angry at me for some reason. Ouch. No, really - how do you guys do that? I can just place my foot on it, and then it's regression to infanthood - I moan and cry as if in need of breastmilk.




This morning I got on the scale again, and read 62.5 Weird stuff. How do you shave off 2.5 kg in one day? I hadn't been eating differently, and my toilet practice has been regular. The scale is an old-fashion one, but pretty reliable. Can an 11 km run produce such change?? I know body weight can vary substantially from day to day, but 4 kg less since 3 days ago seems crazy. This also got me excited though, for as I read here, had I been this weight on last Sunday I would have run the 10k in 35 minutes, which is what I was aiming for. So perhaps is not the Asics' fault.

Then I went for another run, to East Fremantle, galvanised by the glorious weather and by the kids at childcare. I sort of willingly miscalculated how far I was going, and ended up clocking a - for me epic- 18km run. I think I haven't run that much since 1998. Seriously. The last 20 minutes I dragged myself miserably: everything was hurting, legs, shoulders, neck.. the left foot, of course..  But hey, that's 18km. Take this, bodyscale.

Weight: the evil is on the scale

 

I am puzzled by what the scale told me today.

I am a small-framed guy, 1,70m - with the body structure of a university lecturer (but I'm still fit!). Normally I am around 62kg, which hasn't changed for the past 20 years. Since I have been running more regularly for the past few weeks, the scale has started to tilt a little towards the 60 kg mark.

This morning I got up for the Fremantle 10km, as planned. I thought I was in decent shape, and could have done something in the 35mins region.. The course was flat, the weather good. Usual ridiculously early start (can Australians ever conceive of organising a run that starts at 10am, at least in the winter?), so I was up even more ridiculously at 6.30am. before putting on my gears, I jumped on the bathroom scale, old but reliable. Verdict: 66kg!! WTF!! I hadn't run that much in the previous days (in fact, I had rested on 3 out the last 4 days), but I certainly had behaved. Plus, I was on an empty stomach...

After that adrenaline un-booster, I went for my 10km, with my mysterious 4 kg extra carriage. I stopped thinking about it during warm-up, the legs were feeling OK after a couple days of rest. But the performance wasn't great: I took off too fast, ended up dragging myself between 5 and 8 km, run mostly on my own... I should have done at last 90secs less on the overall time.

A few days ago I found an interesting link, which shows how you would have performed on the same distance had your weight been different. I don't know how they do it, nor if it's true, but it feels good to look at it. Like, if I had been my normal weight today, I would have run in 35 minutes.

So, for the next 4 weeks, I will run the following scale-experiment on myself. I will not try to get particularly creative with training plans/strategies etc. I will simply aim at shaving some excess weight off. Running early in the morning, before breakfast (hoping my kids will let me sleep at night); avoiding sugary tricky stuff (btw, I will have to write a specific post on that. The list of 'stuff you should avoid' is almost infinite!); swapping from cappuccino/lattes to coffee only, and avoiding wine (the "light beer" option will probably stay, or I'll get depressed). I will keep me posted.

Playing with numbers

 

The running week so far has gone well. Continuity has been on my side, and on Tuesday I managed to pile up a 3x2000 + 1x1000, 3 min running in between. Painful, of course. I was halfway through it, when I was suddenly struck by the question "Hang on, why on earth am I doing this? I've got a family. I've got a mortgage to pay. I've got a job!" But I shut that voice up and kept running. That's being tough, innit?

Anyway, that run went well, but both calves hurt. Must be the new shoes, they've got quite a low drop compared to my long-run ones. So I took a day off on Wednesday, followed by another one on Thursday, due to rain in the morning, and family commitments in the afternoon (took the family to watch the Cirque du Soleil. Pretty amazing. It was basically a feast of abs and shoulders, against a background of flying people). I went back to running today, the calves were still pretty upset but hung in there; so I did a fartlek- a pyramid one, which I did not now about till I asked "the Google".

I ended up doing a1-2-3-4-3-2-1 version, though I cut a couple of minutes at the end for I did not want to go for too long. Still, 14km overall, which is a seasonal record. It was pretty hard, I chugged and panted like an old steam engine, but I liked that you are not tied to distances or split times, can do it anywhere, and you run at different paces. I hope it'll pay off - on Sunday I am signed up for a 10K here in Fremantle, will see how that goes (if that goes at all: kids are sick at the moment, so probably I am en route to gastro or similar :'(

 

The runner formerly known as HomoCurrens

I have been blogging for a few months about me and the run. Running has always been a key component in my life, since I was a teenager. Even when I tried to ignore it, and go to gym/swimming/football, I would come back to running, like an unfaithful man who cheats on his wife only to realise that the other women are no match. I think I just miss the regular rhytm of my steps, against a panting background.

So far I have been writing in Italian, just because it is the most beautiful language in the world, and also I happen to be Italian. But from now on, I will switch to English. I have spent the last 10 years in Anglo-saxon countries, right now I'm living in Western Australia. I hope writing in English will bring me closer to the world-wide running community.

Risalgo la china... and switch to english

Dopo una settimana atleticamente tranquilla, per via della donazione di sangue che mi aveva alquanto prosciugato, ho ripreso con continuita' ad allenarmi. Sabato solita Park Run, senza concorrenti, sicche' arrivo primo solitario y final in 18e11, sinceramente ho anche faticato sul finale - ma ho dato la colpa alle ridotte scorte di sangue.


Poi ieri e oggi un paio di allenamenti validi, 27km in totale, ieri sospinto dal vento oceanico che soffiava dal sud, oggi sotto un sole cocente per via di un'improvvisa primavera. La bilancia si avvicina ai 60kg, che e' segnale che le cose stanno andando come dovrebbero. Se resisto ai ciambelloni che mia madre cucina incessantemente, a alle bottiglie di Merlot che papa' continua a comprare, magari arrivo in zona peso forma.

A corollario di tutto cio', ho deciso di abbandonare la scrittura di questo blog in italiano, e passare all'inglese. L'idea di scrivere in italiano, pur se all'estero, era nata dal desiderio di potermi sollazzare tra metonimie, assonanze e soleicismi, che solo la lingua nostra puo' permettere, e mantenere contatti con podisti del Bel Paese; ma scrivendo in inglese, magari riesco ad allargare vagamente il bacino di utenza, oltre al fatto che la gran parte dei podisti del Bel Paese che seguo sono senz'altro "fluent" in inglese..

Grazie dunque ai miei compatrioti che si sono affacciati su questi bit negli ultimi mesi: qualora vogliate fare un po' di pratica di inglese, siete sempre benvenuti!

Il sangue langue

Ieri avevo appuntamento per la consueta donazione di sangue. La croce rossa australiana mi insegue a scadenze trimestrali, la mia zeropositivita' mi rende appetibile fonte di globuli rossi & co. Sicche', giusto 24 ore dopo la City to Surf, mi trovo su un lettino, con un ago piu' simile a un ordigno bellico, che mi succhia la bellezza di 495cc di sangue.

Dice che donare il sangue faccia bene, ma non e'quello il motivo per cui mi reco ogni 90 giorni all'appuntamento "agonistico" (nel senso di grosso ago). Immagino ci sia dietro un senso di responsabilita', un desiderio di 'fare qualcosa' per aiutare gli altri. In piu', e' pur sempre un esame del sangue gratis (HIV & co., ma anche emoglobina, che e' sempre bene tenerla sott'occhio quando si corre), le infermiere ogni tanto sono carine, e i biscotti che ti danno a fine donazione sono buoni :) Prima di arrivare all'atto pratico la procedura e' lunga, il solito questionario da completare ogni volta (sei stato con le prostitute? sei un prostituto? hai fatto sesso con uno sconosciuto di sesso maschile? ti hanno schizzato con del sangue? hai mangiato la carne di mucca pazza in Gran Bretagna?), ma poi la donazione di per se' dura scarsi 10 minuti.

Ma oggi, esco a correre a ora di pranzo, pieno di buoni propositi, per costruire sulla scia del buon lavoro fatto nelle ultime settimane. I piedi pesavano un quintale. Le gambe erano due blocchi di cemento. Sudavo, ansimavo come se stessi correndo in montagna, invece che sul piatto lungomare di Fremantle. Segue crisi esistenziale - sono vecchio, non recupero piu' le gare!! Finche', dopo breve ricerca online, l'ovvia risposta: ti hanno tolto mezzo litro di sangue, dove cavolo vuoi andare?

Quindi, settimana contemplativa. Se non altro a fin di bene.