Back to the drawing board

Why, oh why, did I write that last post so full of expectations and hopes. On Tuesday I went back to the athletic track for the weekly training session with the team. After warming up and having performed a whole lot of plyometric exercises on the steps of the stands (admittedly quite a bit more than a week ago) I had planned to put in a series of 8 x 800m at a speed of about 3'20" (remember last week I had done 6 x 800m at 3' 30" and one at 3' flat) which would have shown me that I was improving my base speed and endurance and actually getting back into form. Two of my friends were also doing the same workout so I decided to tag along with them, especially since I knew that one of them is generally quite a bit slower than me (when I'm in form anyway). The first 800m came in at 3' 14" and I knew I was in trouble - I could hardly keep up the pace. So I decided to let them go and do my own thing. Depression rules OK. Feeling very down with myself I did the rest of the workouts starting with a 3' 35" and trying to make each one a little faster than the one before. To be honest the last one came in at 3' 18" and all of the last three came in under 3' 30" so it wasn't that bad.
In any case I am not feeling as confident as I was a week ago.
Let' see what the rest of the week brings.

Getting back to running form

If you had asked me a month ago how long it would have taken me to get back into running form I would have said at least two to three months. The results of the last week of training have made me review that to a much shorter one to two months - big grin. Last tuesday I went for the usual team track workout but with the idea of doing my training by myself - I certainly didn't want to get involved in any crazy latic acid workouts with my friends. So I warmed up nicely, did some plyometric workouts on the tribune steps and then started with a series of 8 x 800m at the quite leisurely pace of 3' 30" and a recovery of 1' 30". I did the first 6 quite easily and very contendedly but I was getting more and more frustrated to see my friends racing past me as they also did a 8 x 800m workout but in 3' flat. I couldn't stand it any more so I tagged on to the second lap of their seventh 800m just to see if I could keep the pace. To my surprise I stayed with them from the beginning to the end. One more to go. I couldn't resist. As they set off on their last 800m repeat I tucked in behind Marco to see how long I could hold on. The first lap was OK but I could feel myself tiring. As we entered the back straight I allowed the two of them to open up a gap of a couple of metres but tried to hang with it as long as I could. I could see that the gap was still the same as we entered the last curve and responding to my agonistic instinct I slightly lengthened my stride. To my surprise the gap diminished and as we exited the curve I was back on their shoulders. There was no way I could go outside and take them round the curve and I wasn't even thinking of doing so. I was just hanging on for my life. Then it happened. Massimo who was running on the outside moved to his right, Marco running on the inside moved to his left and a huge gap opened up between them. I swear I had no idea what I was doing - some ancient God of athletic tracks whispered in my ear and pushed me through the hole. My stride lengthened and I was flying down the last straight with andrenaline burning in my chest. I heard some probably not complementary comments as I maintained the pace and just let my legs go. The finish point came not too soon and I hit the stop watch button as I crossed it. 2 minutes 59". Thank God that was the last repeat of the evening. Needless to say I was walking on cloud nine when I got home.
The rest of the week went well with swimming sessions on Wednesday (1,8km) and Friday (2km) with a 5 x 100m session on two minute intervals where we were timing 1' 30" for the swim portions, and one hour of weight work on Thursday.
Saturday was a great 75km bike ride (Spring is really on its way back) in the hills for an average speed of 25km/h.
On Sunday I went for a 15km off road run, which was originally planned for 12km but just kept going since I was feeling so good. It was a beautiful morning with great visibility. To the north I could just make out part of the Alps (80 kilometres away), while to the south I could see all of the Apennine mountains (just 20km) crowned in glorious white snow.
I'm still taking it easy and I'm a little cautious but things really sem to be going in the right direction. Let's see what this week brings - last week of training before I have to go to the States and training will be wound down for ten days.

Back to Training

Yes!!!!!!!! I am officially back in training. After having followed my doctors and physiotherapists instructions for a month and a half, and I swear to God I have never followed anyones instructions so closely in my life, I am officially back to training. The pain in my leg has disappeared, my back is loosening up and life is sweet. I had my last check-up on Friday 20th February and the good doctor gave me the all clear, mind you he did insist on me taking it easy for the next month or so.
So on Saturday I very cautiously went for a spin on the road bike. Just 40 kilometres, taking it easy and not worrying about the speed or power. An hour and forty minutes of just gently turning over the pedals, listening to the i-pod and enjoying being back on the road for an average speed of 23 km/h. I was still a little worried so I laid back for Sunday and Monday, just doing a short ride with my son on Sunday. By Tuesday I was fired up to go and each day the back was feeling better so I put in the following week of training.

Tuesday – 6k of running including 7 x 400m at 1’ 35”.
Wednesday – 2k of swimming.
Thursday – Forty minutes of weights and twenty minutes of spinning.
Friday – 2k of swimming.
Saturday – 70k of road bike with gentle hills. 2h 45’ for an average speed of 25km/h.
Sunday – 9k of running off road in one hour. Slow but that was intentional.

The incredible thing is that every time I finished a training session I would feel some tightness and a moderate amount of pain in my back but my the next morning it was gone and I actually felt better than the day before. Almost as if the training was working as a medicine.
I’ve taken Monday as a rest day and this evening (Tuesday) it’s back to the track for a session of 8 x 800m. I won’t be keeping the speed of my friends who are in training for the Rome Marathon next month but just the fact of being out there and running is going to be great.

Manaus

When I tell people that I’m going to visit Manaus (something I do about once a year) I get two kinds of reaction. One is the completely blank “what the hell is Manaus” look and the other is the “Omg isn’t that in the middle of the Amazon Jungle, what the hell are you going there for” look. Mostly people think that I’m going to be moving around in dug-out canoes and sleeping in hammocks suspended between two trees while billions of insects try to eat me alive. So off I go again to explain that yes ,Manaus is in the middle of the Amazon Jungle, but it is also a thriving city of nearly two million people. Not nearly as adventurous as it seems. Once upon a time I guess people still had to arive in Manaus by boat, up the river from the Amazon delta, but today you can comfortably fly into the modern airport and within half an hour of landing you can already be in one of the modern air-conditioned hotels that grace this bustling, industrial city. Now, why did I mention the air-conditioning? Well it is in the middle of the Amazon Jungle but it has four seasons like the rest of the world as explained to me by a friend who lives there. They have the hot season, the hotter season, the ridiculously hot season and the OMG what am I doing here it’s so hot season. Needless to say I always visit during the hot season.
The city is not actually situated on the Amazon river but on the banks of the Rio Negro, which flows down from the Colombian Andes, crossing a large part of the Amazon jungle till it meets with the Rio Solimoes, which comes from Peru, just a few kilometres down river from Manaus. The interesting thing about these two rivers is that they have different colours, different temperatures and different speeds. The Rio Negro is dark black looking (hence its name) has a temperature of 28°c and flows at a lesiurely 2 kilometres an hour, the Solimoes is yellowish brown, has a temperature of 22°c and flows at approximately 5 kilometres an hour. This difference in the two rivers creates a spectacular phenomenon, known as “Encontro dos Aguas”, where the two rivers meeting together don’t actually mix but continue flowing downstream side by side for nearly 10 kilometres. Then, and only then these waters become the Amazon. It is possible to take a ferry ride to view this yourself but it is even more spectacular when, if you are lucky, you see it from the airplane as you land in Manaus. My photo is from the ferry.
Although Manaus is today a modern, industrial city many inhabitants still live along the banks of the river, involved in traditional occupations such as boat building, where the distinction between housing and boatyard would seem to be a little hazy.
Others live away from the city itself, though still along the banks of the river in house boats due to the impossibility of building any permanent constructions which would be swept away during periods of high water.

Fernando de Noronha

Does that look like a beautiful beach with just one pair of footprints? Well yes it does and guess who those footprints belong to. Of course, they’re mine. I was enjoying one of the most transcendental experiences of my life. A whole, incredibly beautiful beach and it’s all mine. Actually no, my friend and commercial agent for Latin America, Paul, is lying like a bloated whale on another part of the beach and if I look right up to the other end I can just about make out two or three other people.
This is Praia do Americano on the Brazilian island of Fernando de Noronha. We had just spent three days working in the Brazilian city of Recife and had decided to spend the weekend on this beautiful island about 350 kilometres from the coast. Actually you can’t just decide – you have to book some time in advance as there are only two flights a day. Just as well considering that the island itself is only 10 kilometres long and 3,5 kilometres at its maximum width (total area 18km2). The total population, excluding tourists is 2,000 people. The island is a protectorate of UNESCO due to its unique flora, fauna and geology.
The island was first discovered in 1501 by a Portuguese explorere Fernao de Noronha but has changed hands numerous times in it’s history. From 1534 to 1556 it was under English control, 1556 to 1612 French. There was a Dutch invasion in 1628, followed by a Spanish – Portuguese one just two years later. The Dutch again in 1635 and twenty years later in 1655 back came the Portuguese. It was later left disinhabited until re-discovered by the French East Indies Company in 1736. In 1737 the portuguese decided that they had had enough- kicked out the French and built ten forts around the island – ten forts in no more than 25 kilometres of coastline!! – they certainly weren’t taking any chances. Since then the island has remained as part of the Brazilian territories, first under Portuguese rule and later as part of the Republic. During world war 2 it was transformed into a penal settlement for both political and normal prisoners. Since 1988 it is no longer a settlement and has become part of the Brazilian state of Pernambuco.
Arriving on an island is always a mystical experience for me and this was no exception. An hours flight over the Atlantic and then suddenly this miniscule island is below you. The plane banks steeply to the left, straightens up and points directly towards the only flat part of the island in between two hilly areas. Engines roaring and echoing against the slopes of the hills and without any fuss the plane is rolling along the runway. After having paid our $22 a day tourist tax (quite right – UNESCO has to get its money from somewhere) we grab our bags and take the first pick-up truck directed towards our Pousada. Half an hour later we are sitting on a veranda enjoying the sunset and a well deserved caipirinha.
The next morning we went down to the port of Santo Antonio nice and early as we had been recommended to do and arranged for a morning boat trip. The view of the island from the sea was amazing and we took it all in as we chatted with the the captain who defined himself as the pirate – look at the picture and who can fault him.
The highlight of this boat trip was to see the dolphins. I was expecting to see them but as the captain slowed down the boat and they suddenly surfaced all around the boat I couldn’t believe it. Adults, pups, playful youngsters – whole families of dolphins surrounded us. We must have observed them for about five minutes but the best was to come. As the captain brought the speed of the boat back up to full power the largest of the dolphins raced under the bows of the boat, speeding from one side to the other as they strove to stay ahead of the vessel in a watery version of tag. What incredible creatures!
The afternoon was spent lounging on the beach of Praia do Americano, bathing and snorkelling in the warm sea, observing fish and even one sea tortoise.
To end a perfect day here is the sun as it descends into the Atlantic Ocean. Priceless!

Injury - Sciatica

So, you may be asking yourselves, why haven’t I talked about any recent races or, at least, some interesting training sesions. The reason is that I am suffering from that most feared of all situations for an endurance athlete – Injury!
Not just an injury that is going to keep me out of training for a week or two, but something that could keep me away from serious training for over a month, or even two. Considering that my plans for this year were to compete in at least two Olympic length triathlons between May and June, a 45k trail race in July and a 100K trail race at the end of August (this is also my ‘A’ race for 2009) it looks like my training is not getting off to a great start.
So what is the problem. This is the same problem that I have already had five years ago. The initial problem is a slipped disc in my back (actually two years ago they were two but it sems that this time round it is only one). If you don’t know what a slipped disc is here is a diagram which shows how part of the liquid contained between each of the vertebral discs squeezes out of it’s lodging. This is actually not such a large problem, but you see that wiggly bit that comes out of the spinal cord. That’s the sciatic nerve. This nerve extends all of the way down through the hip, continues through the thigh, knee, calf and eventually comes to rest in the foot, depending on which part of the spinal cord it started from. Now here’s the thing with the sciatic nerve – it really doesn’t like getting all mixed up and pushed around by this liquid from the disc and starts to get really annoyed. This general annoyance is communicated to the rest of the body by sending nerve pain signals straight down the leg. So depending which of the discs has this leakage problem the pain can arrive in the hip, as far as the thigh, down into the calf or even all the way to the foot. This can be seen more clearly in this diagram. Now, how did I get into this situation. Five years ago I managed to do it by running five marathons in the space of 12 months, the last of which was also extremely hilly (and I’m talking mountain hilly not gently rolling hilly). On that occasion I had liquid seeping out between my L4 and L5 and between my L5 and S1 and (if you refer to the diagram) this was causing me pain from my thigh to my foot. This time round I aggravated it by doing too much off-piste skiing with lot’s of far too athletic movements and jumps and god knows what else! This is not a recent photo but it gives you an idea of the kind of things I was doing.
Luckily (it seems) the slipped disc is only between L4 and L5 so I only have pain from my thigh through to my calf – let’s look on the bright side. The worst thing about this is that there is no actual cure. Rest – as in sitting around and lying down are no good because these positions actually aggravate the pain. Walking slowly is actually the least painful thing to do. But, of course, I cannot train as in running and cycling though the doctor says I can do some bland swimming – yeah like that is going to get me somewhere on race day. So I “rest”, take anti-inflammatory drugs and wait for the liquid to dry up and the nerve to calm down. After which it will be lots of physiotherapy work in a swimming pool, bland swimming and a slow return to serious training. Stay with me and see if I actually manage to compete in my ‘A’ race.

Yes, he's a skier!

I’ve done it. Finally this year I’ve managed to teach my six year old son to ski. First of all you have to know that my wife and I are avid skiers – I’d better clarify that – we don’t actually like skiing in ski areas with lifts and pistes etc. but we are crazy abour ski mountaineering(I’ll be doing some posts about this later on with some amazing photos). That’s the kind of skiing where you pick a mountain, walk up it with skis and climbing skins, enjoy the invariably incredible view on the way up and on the top, and then ski back down. All of this without seeing more than maybe ten people (though sometimes none at all) in the whole day. Now we use to able to do this every weekend for the whole winter season and through most of Spring – until of course when Elia arrived which kind of put paid to that kind of activity. So we’ve got big plans to get him doing the same thing in the future but first of all he has to learn to ski and to do that we need to use the ski areas with lifts and pistes and people etc.
So a couple of years ago when he was four and a half we decided to make the first attempt. We booked a week in a Family Hotel (specially organised hotels ideal for families) in Santa Cristina, Val Gardena which is in Northern Italy. The idea was for him to have lessons with a ski instrutor every morning and then, if he was still up to it, to do some skiing in the afternoon with us. The first morning we got him dressed, ski suit, helmet, goggles, boots. I know……………. doesn’t he look cute!
He’s looking less cute in this one because he’s realising that he’s about to be abandoned to the mercies of the ski instructors. I’m still trying to look confident.
When the bus arrived the crisis exploded. He definitely didn’t want to get on the bus, he didn’t want to ski, and he didn’t want to get separated from his parents. I ended up putting him into the bus in what probably looked like an All Blacks scrumming practice. We could still hear him shouting and crying as the bus drew away. We also drove up to the same ski area in the car but since the ski instructor had asked all of the parents to keep away from the school area we went to ski on the other side of the mountain but where we could still see the piste where they were having their lesson (we could also hear him (yes him, not them). He was not enjoying it. We went and picked him up at midday, as we had been instructed. “How was it?” – No answer , very non commital. We had some lunch and actually convinced him to do some more descents on the school piste during the afternoon. OK, maybe he is actually getting the hang of it. The next morning we experienced the exact same reaction – crisis, tears, howls – me bundling him into the bus like a Maori tight end. Not good. The rest of the day went like the first. Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea after all. The third day was an absolute refusal and we couldn’t face having to force him into the bus a third time. OK, we’ll go skiing together – who cares about the € 200 of ski lessons I had aleady paid for. So for the next three days we skiied in the morning – skiied!! We descended various easy pistes with Elia in tow – sometimes enjoying, sometimes complaining but invariably refusing to go beyond the morning. The afternoon was dedicated to other activities – the hotel’s organised play area for him, running and sauna for us. Though he did enjoy the tobogganing afternoon we organised. And so the week ended with very little progress having been made.
Last year passed by without any possibility to go skiing. As this year came round and it started snowing in early december we thought that it was the time to make it or break it. For a first try out we went to a local ski station (just over an hour away in the Appenine mountains) and spent most of the day together on the school piste, though we did convince him to do a couple of descents on a blue piste (any progress is to be taken with open arms). Then at the beginning of the year we decided to take four days holiday in the western Alps (Bardonecchia, Val di Susa) where we would be together with some other friends who have similarly aged kids. Well, let me tell you – it was a huge success! Four days of perfect skiing – let’s say about 5 hours a day and by the end of it all of the kids were flying down the red pistes and whistling while they did it. So much so that we never even got the chance to take any pictures. We followed that up with another day session at the local ski area and I can safely say that my son is now a skier. Now I’m not saying that he’s a champion, or he’s going to win any medals but we are definitely on our way and for the time being I’ll take anything I can get.
Now where can I find a small pair of mountaineering skis and boots???