Jolly

Downward dog and other resolutions

The Long Jog to Comrades No Comment

I’m not a big believer in resolutions. Being of the “I’m totally focusing on this one thing. OOOHHH SHINY. I’m totally only focusing on the shiny” school of commitment, the role resolutions play in my life is the part of “something to be ignored”. However, I was in the pool trying to dodge the rudder that was flapping past my face and got thinking about the year aead.

Downward drowning dog

The waggy wet tail was Dexter’s rudder. Most days, he stands by the edge of the pool crying and stretching one paw dramatically over the water, looking plaintive, as we’ve abandoned him on the waters edge (a maximum of 1.5m from the nearest human at the further extremity). But ever since he fell in and toppled upside down and half drowned before I heroically rescued him, he’s lost his nerve in the water. Today’s dip in the pool was Grumpster-assisted: he had carefully plonked Doodles in the water – making sure he kept his bearings – before releasing him to pootle round in the cool water. And no, Dexter’s inability to determine up from down wasn’t actually the direction of dog in the title that I had in mind. I was actually thinking about ME. #obviously

Warning: unexpected muscle soreness (UMS)

The cool water was soothing my sore muscles which had accidentally got used at the gym on Friday. I’d got on the treadmill to do a bit of walking in my eagerness to try out the new Hokas, but was bored after – ooh – 30 seconds. So, I managed 1km, which involved a run because I was too impatient to keep walking and just wanted the distance done. The Grumpster had 5km in his sights, and whilst I could have walked home, it seemed a bit rude. I felt I was being moral support. Or companionable. Despite not saying a word to each other for the duration of being on the gym’s premises… So I went and played upstairs. On weight machines. Which look like fun and not hard work at all. Until the day after and their lies are laid bare… I have discovered Unexpected Muscle Soreness (UMS).

And boy, it’s a thing that makes you want to say UMMM!

Hokas pocus

The sadness of sore muscles and happiness of new Hokas blended into thinking about my resolutions for the coming year. Which are not many.

Resolution number one is to do the work to get a Comrades medal in this year’s Down Run. (There’s the small issue of qualifying, but more on that another time).

And resolution number two is to not get injured in the lead up, or as a result of doing it. I would like to spend the whole year running, not just the first half, as happened in 2015. Because in 2015, I decided on the morning of the race, to run Comrades in a pair of shoes I loved, but had never run more than 10-12km in. I’m such a model of #goodrunningdecisions… I ran Comrades in a pair of Altras, which are fabulous, but not ideal for anyone with tight calves.

 

Did I mention my tight calves?

I have super-tight calves.

And whilst Hokas aren’t quite as seriously unsuited to my calves, they are still SHOES I SHOULD NOT WEAR…

Resolution Number 3

OK, so I said there were 2 resolutions. I lied. Like gentle-looking gym equipment really.

I want to wear all the shoes I SHOULD NOT WEAR. Which yesterday, was something I did, and took the Hokas on a test run to parkrun in morning. #SuchaRebel #ILikeRules #butSometimesCantSticktoThem.

I like the Hokas.

(I liked parkrun at Stones Corne, too. They have these fabulous inventions called trees-along-the-path. It was a revelation. SHADE!!!)

And I liked the Hokas. Did I mention??? I do, I do.

They are marginally too narrow, even in the wide-fit-and-half-a-size-up version. D is not 2E. (I.e. made for feet, not flippers like mine!) I wedged some wedgey things in the soles (as donated by my podiatrist) to increase the heel-to-toe differential. And my calves were happy. Or at least they didn’t complain there and then. I suppose we might be having words later, but we had no whinging this morning…!

Old. Alt. Altra

My other love is my Altras. And I want to buy more. I saw a whole shelf of them in Wild Fire Sports last time I was in there. I want to buy them AND actually wear them, rather than storing them in a dark corner of my wardrobe. On the basis that if I can’t see them, then I have nothing to confess to my physio. Surely?

Downward Dog

So the point of the downward dog? My calves need a stretch. A lot of stretches. And downward facing dog, along with copious foam rolling and general stretching is the order of the day. So my resolution is to stretch, roll and maintain this body of mine. It isn’t getting any younger, and as this picture proves, it isn’t good at yoga either. Whilst my feet are beautifully cut out of view, it’s a surprise you can’t see my heels. Because they’re closer to my arse than to the floor.

resolutions
Celeste Barber … You have nothing to fear from me….!

So, there you go, 2018 is the year of the stretch.

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