Five months of not running....

 Ahah, a blog about not running? How very Zen. There are a lot of things I haven't been doing apart from running,  but you have to focus. As Facebook wisdom has it - you can't hug all the cats.

So how's the knee? 

Well, whisper it, but it seems a wee bit better. I don't have to be so careful with it. I still have to think about stairs, steep inclines and declines, and it's still swollen, so I'm not running. I can't be bothered doing the re-injury thing, it takes too much of a toll. I've kind of accepted I'll need to start from scratch whenever and if ever I do get going again.

Which raises a question; what is scratch? How do you start running again? I was 25 last time I started running, and I'm guessing, but I was probably more resilient then than I am now. When I was 25 I was doing a Masters in IT at Stirling Uni because there weren't many jobs and the Scottish Govt was handing out funding, and one of the guys on my course was an ex PE teacher. Calum gave me this advice. "Just keep running for 20 minutes at first and you'll get fitter". He was right. It was terrible at first. The terrible thing was the breathing. I walked a lot and swam kind of regularly and had a bike so it didn't really seem hard on my legs. The breathing was something else. And the public humiliation. There's nothing for blowing your cool like huffing and puffing with a big red face while you run quite slowly. 

Also, it was in the days when it was fine to shout out your van window at a puffing jogger lady, so I got more feedback than I was ever looking for. I have a fine fighting spirit however and THAT shit just made me more determined to run. Although I tried to do it after dark whenever I could.

So what I'm saying is I have no idea how I'll start running again. Maybe I'll do the couch to 5K thing people talk about.

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So how are you doing with physios?

How thoughtful of you to ask. I've got a bit to say about that. So the one I was telling you about 2 months ago who knew about knees and football. I went back to see him and I think it cost me £58 and in the meantime he'd forgotten everything we'd talked about and had to read his notes while I sat there, and then he gave me some rather hasty exercises where I didn't really get what he was asking me to do. He yawned the whole time as well. I'm still doing the first exercises he gave me and they've helped me I think, but I didn't go back. 

You're quite the Diva these days aren't you Yakhunter?

Yes it's my new thing.

I thought I was maybe being a bit stubborn about the anti-inflammatories so I had a google and I found a paper on-line that said ibuprofen gel seemed to be just as effective as oral ibuprofen for reducing swelling and inflammation, but without the side-effects, so I've been using that, and it's hard to know what does what, but my knee's not so swollen - in fact it's much less swollen. I can do a standing quad stretch now which I couldn't do a couple of months ago.

Last thing and then I promise to shut up about my knee.

I got an NHS physio appointment through after...maybe 3 months wait. I didn't really want to go because I'm sick of the whole circus, but I went just in case they would have anything shiny or hopeful for me.

Quite the reverse actually. It's hard for me to say much about it because I appreciate the circumstances any NHS physio is working in - but it just made me feel tired, old and cynical. Obviously they're on a drive to reduce waiting lists because I got an assessment in a room with maybe 10 other people at the same time all saying their thing while I tried to say my thing. I couldn't hardly hear my young physio but I could hear the person adjacent to me who was saying she'd MAXED OUT ON ALL THE PAIN MEDS BUT SHE WAS STILL IN AGONY. He didn't know what was wrong with my knee. His face said he thought I should be happy with how my knee is because it's not too bad. He sent me a pdf of exercises to do the next day, that are less than the ones I'm already doing, and including lunges which I can't do because they hurt my knees. I won't be going back. I need to think of something to say. for cancelling the next appointment. I'll figure something out.

To the notion that you should just accept it if your knee packs up when you're 56 years old I would like to say this - cardiovascular disease, diabetes, chronic pain conditions - all associated with obesity - are killing the NHS. It isn't unreasonable to try to be as fit as possible for as long as possible. Exercise improves mental health, reduces blood pressure and the risk of stroke, reduces the chances of getting a host of different cancers, reduces the chances of getting osteoporosis and dementia. Oldies who exercise are doing everyone else a favour. So fuck off.

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So in the meantime I've been swimming and out on my bicycle, and I've been enjoying it. I went yesterday with Buchanan to Woodhall Dean to look for Purple Hairstreaks. (Butterflies). He's been at me to do this for a wee while. It was + or - 33 somewhat hilly miles to get there. The Hairstreaks, apparently, are more active in the late afternoon and early evening. I wasn't so keen for this because I like to be eating my tea and watching the Tour de France Highlights at 7pm - but I eased up on my precious regime for this one day. We found the Hairstreaks, and they were indeed much more active as the day got later. Then we cycled, possibly not a very good route, which was 18 miles and had as many hills as the previous 33, to North Berwick and got a train home from there.

Tea was a carry-out curry at 10.30pm, and I only just managed to get a lesson in on Duolingo to keep my 923 Spanish streak going. Estupendamente!!

Purple Hairstreak.

On the leaf above the yellow shield bug there are a team of shield bug babies. I took the picture but didn't notice the babies until Peter pointed them out later.

Three months of not running.

 Who wants a blog about knees? "WE DO!!!", shouted nobody. Well that's too bad because if there's one thing I've learned it's that quite often in life you don't get what you want. So suffer up. 

Here's a picture of a knee pinched from the inter-web, because another thing I've learned in life is that too much text and no pictures is unbearable.

So anyway, 3 months ago my knee was a bit swollen, just above the kneecap on the right hand-side. It wasn't all that sore and I ran on it for another week but that was making it worse so I stopped. I thought I was being extremely sensible and conservative as in the past I would have just run on it and hoped it would go away until I literally couldn't. (run on it.)

I went to a physio sooner rather than later and she said she didn't know what it was but I was quad dominant and had shocking balance so do these exercises. Increase your booty.  I did all the exercises and in fact still do and now I've got a marvellous booty and I can do (well kind of) arabesque balances. But I've still got a swollen knee.

I went to see my GP and he thought it was maybe bursitis so encouraged me to try more icing and lyiing with my knee up, but that didn't do anything.

Then I went and got the fluid taken off and an injection of hyaluronic acid as it still wasn't clear what the problem was and the hope was that would be enough just to soothe the joint and get it back moving again. It was nice to see my unswollen knee again, albeit briefly, until it filled up again.

Then I was going to go to another physio. The first one had been a bit snippy with me and when I emailed her, which she said I could, to ask if the knee still being swollen after a month was a problem, she didn't get back to me, so I thought fuck off I'd like to work with someone who is actually interested, - but first I went back to my GP and told him where I'd got to. He ordered x-rays to rule out any funny business, or indeed arthritis, and there was no point in going to a physio until I had the results of that. Turns out at the moment it takes a week to get a doctors appointment and then you're supposed to give it 7 days after the x-ray for your GP to get the results. I thought I was being clever by allowing 8 days because things don't always go to plan, but when I got to the GPs the results weren't back yet and then the soonest next appointment I could get was another 10 days. Much as I love the NHS I hate the fucking NHS.

("How can you complain about the NHS when some babies can't get clean water and have flies in their eyes?" I hear you say. My response is this. Fuck off. Stop trying to relativise my pain.)

WAIT, anyway, Hold the bus!! I forgot James the Chinese Medicine guy. Well maybe not medicine but Tui-Na massage (who he?) and acupuncture, moxibustion, man of inspiring words!! He was really nice. He cheered me up immensely, told me my body knows how to heal, that everyone in the western world's hips are far too tight, and right in front of me squatted in a way that defied belief. I burst out laughing - an anxiety reaction - and said "Stop doing that it's ridiculous." Maybe I can find you a picture. Kind of like this.....

I told him "yeah  but I can't do that". "Yes you can", he said "your body is amazing."

I was just about to say "Thanks very  much." when I realised he didn't mean me per se....anyhoo (I'm lolling.)

So yeah he was really encouraging and he did some wild massage on my legs with cupping which in case, like me, you didn't know, is putting glass jars that have been heated on the inside, on your skin, which creates a vacuum and draws - I don't know what - sucks at your skin and it's good for you. Feels great in a "Jesus are you sure" kind of way. I went to see him twice and each time my legs felt great afterwards, but my flipping swelling persisted. He gave me a lot of advice about attending to the joints and about mobilising my hips so I can do that crazy squatting thing, which I'm a little ashamed to say I have let drop. But there are so many threads to it.

So, at last the x-rays were back and I had a phonecall appointment with my GP and he said, nothing funny on the x-rays, they're normal, so that was good in itself. It meant whatever was going on was soft-tissue. I've got a mind that can easily create a catastrophic scenario so I was reassured even though my GP was unimpressed. The other thing he tried to get me to do was take anti-inflammatories. I'd said no the first time and now I felt like, well that's what you're supposed to do so I better take them and I got the prescription filled and took them for a day, but I don't know, changing your whole system just to alter one small part of you doesn't make any sense to me - and then I read all the warnings about ulcers and gastric bleeds and even cardiovascular problems and I stopped taking them. I had a dig around to see what I could maybe take instead that wouldn't kill my digestive system, or indeed my heart and found a chapter in a book by Neal Barnard called 'Foods that fight pain' that talks about the control of different types of prostaglandins and how you can do it with Flax-seed oil, borage oil and vitamin E, so I've been taking them. I think they have helped a bit.

"Why are you even worried about your knee being swollen if it's not that sore?". I hear you ask. Well that's a good question. There's quite a lot on-line about it. It seems that if your knee is swollen for too long it tends to break down the tissues and the bone - so things that you didn't have a problem with will develop a problem. "But why is your knee pissing out fluid from God knows where if it's not even good for it?" you say. Another good question. A really good question. I struggle to see my knee as some kind of mad gangster that is holding a gun to my head for no good reason. I think the answer is it's distressed, that's why.

Anyway, off to another physio with me. This guy specialises in knees and looks after a football team. When he sees how bad my knee is after 3 months of relative rest and this and that and I can't even straighten my leg properly he says he's best spending both our time writing a referral back to the GP to say I need an MRI scan and specialist intervention because it's clearly not healing. He looks gloomy and depressed. He sticks some medical acupuncture needles in my leg while he's typing - very odd - he puts electricity through it. He doesn't stint himself either - he uses really a lot of needles, which I have no objection to, because if there's any upside to this it's that I quite like a new experience and this is a new experience for me. I lie there while he huffs over the wording of his letter and really what preoccupies my mind is how I'm going to gently handle my GP so that I can convey the message in a palatable way. - will he take umbrage at me being in touch again with letters from people asking for things? Or will it be fine? I don't know if I have to make another appointment and wait 10 days to deliver the news in person or if it would be alright just to email it all in. I've just come to the conclusion that I'll phone up and ask the receptionsists who are always pretty nice - they'll know how this needs to be handled, when my new physio is satisfied with his writing and comes back to me. He takes out the needles and gets me to do a  few things and he seems to be deep in thought. He gets me to do a wall squat and hold it for bloody ages and after a while he has more of a twinkle about him. He gets me to do leg extensions  and lots of them. He says this nice thing "because you're bloody strong aren't you?". It's the best thing I've heard about myself in a while. I tell him I've been avoiding using my quads because of the whole idea that if you're quad dominant your quads pull your kneecap up hard against the bone and that causes a problem. He lets out a big explosive sigh. "Uh well, it's professional opinion isn't it?" he says "80% of the population are quad dominant. 80% of my football team are quad dominant. They can't change it either. And their knees are fine. Fair enough strengthening your glutes if your glutes are weak, but the first thing I'd do with someone with a knee problem is strengthen the knee. Why wouldn't you?"

I am certainly not going to argue. Do you know what? I just want my knee back working so I can run again. I'm missing it badly. He tells me to go away and do a rake of exercises (but don't do anything tha makes my knee feel worse) and come back in a few weeks and we'll see where we are.

So I've been doing them and my knee does seem better, at least sometimes. I go through hope cycles and gloom cycles so it depends what day you get me on. In the meantime I happened upon a couple of things. One is a program for knee rehab by a Feldenkrais instructor and physical therapist Marek Wyszynski who has taken a deep dive into understanding knee health, initially through his own experience of tearing a ligament playing basketball and since then through client work. Feldenkrais is all about increasing your awareness of what you are actually doing with your body - the felt sense - and hence finding comfortable efficient movement patterns and dropping bad habits. That's actually an inadequate summary but it'll do for now. Moshe Feldenkrais who originally developed it started with a knee injury the docs couldn't fix and fixed it himself. The thrust of the program is to create optimal conditions for your knee to heal - focusing more on keeping your knee as comfortable and non-inflamed as possible while doing gentle exercise rather than a more component focused approach. For example - current thinking about my knee by those who have bothered to think about it at all, is that I've got a meniscus tear - which can take you down a certain road. The meniscus apparently gets a very poor supply of blood and tissues need blood to heal because that's where the goodies come from - so I think medical wisdom is that if you have a tear of a certain severity, the only answer can be surgery because it can't fix itself. Even if I could get surgery, though, then it's a long rehab, and oftentimes what they do is take away a bit of the meniscus, which doesn't necessarily re-grow and I think I'm right in saying that people who have meniscus surgery get arthritis sooner than average. So not a happy picture really. Even if it was just great, with the current state of our NHS and wait lists or what not, if that was what was prescribed for me it wouldn't happen any time soon. But that view is not the only view.

I was watching a talk by an orthopaedic surgeon, Scott F Dye this morning who is escoriatingly critical of a gung-ho surgical approach. It makes him so angry it's actually enjoyable to listen to, if a bit niche. It's here. His view is in accord with Marek's that you need to concentrate on allowing the knee to heal, which he says it can if you don't over-tax it. And you have to be patient. 

So that's where I am. Doing exercises. Trying not to overdo. Trying to be patient.

I'll see my football physio guy in a bit over a week and I'm hoping that he thinks I'm making progress and doesn't get that look about him again - the depressed look. 

See you in a while.

Two months of not running and counting...

 Am I an injured runner who is just swimming a lot at the moment or am I a swimmer who used to run? Only time will tell. I have not run at all since February. My puffy knee is still puffy, in fact, if anything, it feels a bit worse.

Strava doesn't think much of my fitness. Strava can go f*+k it self though, because I'm doing my best. I've been cycling, indoors and out, doing my rehab exercises, going for walks around the graveyard.

I've even ordered an indoor rower. No of course we don't have room for it, and I can't afford it, but I don't care. I need something that's going to make me or keep me strong.

I've been to see....a physio at Fasics and got a program of exercises to correct my quad dominance and bad balance. Then,  a guy who does acupuncture and massage. (He was my favourite) I've had an injection of hyaluronic acid in my knee at a clinic in Falkirk. I've been to see my GP. I had an x-ray. I'm going to see the GP again this Friday. I think he's going to refer me to knee specialists, but we'll see. The physio in Falkirk who did my injection says, based on clinical experience, he thinks it's a meniscus injury because they can be really stubborn. He says to get physio for meniscus rehab - which I'll probably do, but I'm just waiting to see what the GP says. Maybe they'll do an MRI. Maybe they'll even offer me some treatment. I'm just assuming there will be an 8 year wait to see anyone, but maybe that's not true.

It's good I had a lot of practise being injured last year because I'm handling it fairly well I think.

I can walk fairly well except for downstairs and my knee swells up more if I'm on my feet for too long - but by which I mean like 3 hours, so it's not like I'm fragile.

I'm wondering if the whole quad dominance thing is really true. I'll persist with assuming it is for now.

So that's where we are. This runner's world has shrunk a fair bit. 

The rise and fall of Mr Mousy

 Good God, I knew it was a wee while since I blogged, but I didn't know it was that long. Hello again!

I actually was running from October to February, but now I am back on the bench. I wanted to post this great graphic which shows my sharp fall from grace from just before I retired from the NHS until recently.

The round orange dots are parkruns that we started doing every Saturday. Anyway, I was pleased to find that despite low weekly mileage my 5K times were improving. The prevailing wisdom seems to be that as you get older you want to focus more on trying to improve your speed than just knocking out a lot of base miles, and this seemed borne out as I managed to take a couple of minutes off my parkrun time by doing one speed session and one 'other' session during the week and a parkrun on Saturday.

Then I started trying to add in longer runs and that's where things went wrong I think. I did an 11 miler which I got away with and then the following week a 9 miler. My right knee started to swell a bit even though it wasn't painful. I cut back my mileage but it got worse incrementally until it was obvious I shouldn't be running on it.

After doing my head in by googling and trying to figure out what it was this time, I bit the bullet and went and saw a physio at Fasic. She says I'm quad dominant and weak in the hips and I have a battery of exercises and stretches to do. She says don't run until you're pain-free and go back to 5K and then only increase your mileage v-e-r-y g-r-a-d-u-a-l-l-y if at all. It feels good to have a plan and I've had plenty of practice at not being able to run, so I'm just doing what I'm told. I'm walking, swimming, cycling and doing my exercises. It's been 2 weeks since I last ran and it seems longer and it doesn't seem quite as much of a disaster as it did all last year.

So I think I'll tell you the sad story of our mouse. Well there was maybe more than one. We had a wee mouse scooting about the house. Both of us quite like them, you know, as long as there aren't too many or whatever - the odd wee scamper can be fun. Sometimes he would run along the wall when we were watching the telly and give us a chuckle, or sometimes he would belt round the corner from behind the freezer to under the sink when I was in there in the kitchen in my bare feet boiling the kettle. I'd give out a cartoon screech and he would run into his little house a la Jerry. It was all very much slapstick and light-hearted.

I thought I should get a wild-life camera and try out using it on Mr Mousy, so that's what I did. For the first wee while I got no pictures at all, but then after a week or so I did start to get some images and video. Mr Mouse must have just been waiting to see if the camera thing would chase him or not.

But then....

One day I went into the kitchen and there was Mr Mouse lying on his side. Being a coward I called Peter to help and he being hands on touched Mr Mousey who did a gallop on his side, but didn't go anywhere. We figured he wasn't long for this world and Peter put him in a clean paint kettle with a kitchen roll duvet and while we watched the remainder of our telly program, Mr Mouse passed on to the Elysian Fields. We were both saddened, and for a while the flat felt too empty.

Then we were both ridiculously pleased to hear the scitter-scatter of tiny feet again, and we had a few sightings of somebody dark and fast cantering around the kitchen. Order was restored to us and daily hi-jinx of sightings and screaming and scootering began again.

Until...one evening we were watching 19-2 on Netflix; a tense, dark, man drama of French Canadian police; when we saw a small, almost comical form making his way across the carpet towards us. First we were amused but quickly became concerned as we saw this little mouse bumping into things. He seemed to be blind. He kept bowling around, however, like a badly made animatronics mouse.

We searched our poor hearts for what to do. We could kill him but that seemed just too brutal and although he was clearly very sick indeed he didn't seem to be panicking or upset. We knew he likely wouldn't last long and left to his own affairs would probably squeeze behind the bookcase and then make a smell for days. So we corralled him - this time in a comfortable Hoka box, with tissue paper, kitchen roll and an old sock, and we made him a last meal of oatcakes and almond butter and a saucer of water. He liked the almond butter a lot, despite his current state, had a little drink of the water and then sat in it. While we watched the rest of our police drama, he settled down and had a sleep. In the morning he was lying on his side and had joined his friend in the Hereafter.

We assume he (and the first Mr Mousey) was poisoned by our next door neighbours, although there hasn't been an autopsy or an inquest. We're not sure if we'll ever love again.

I'll tell you next blog if we did or not.

Walking the Lighthouse Way Day 9

 

So, we have travelled very far together mis lamparas pequenas. We have had sore feet, we have felt weary, hungry, we have been afraid we would not make it,  we have had fights and made up. We have drunk more wine and beer in the last 10 days than I have probably in the last decade - although I'm not sure about that. We have certainly eaten more meat than in many a year. So let's just get this last bit done.

We were up and out of Lires quite early again - and it was another overcast morning.

By this time we were just making up nonsense to keep ourselves entertained. There was a long and very pleasant section on vegetation which had grown over sand at the back of sand-dunes - it had delightful and rather alien looking plants. We fell to discussing Star Trek and the various turns the plot could take. We were pretty sure that sometimes the aliens looked like pretty ladies and Jim fell in love with them. And sometimes it might be that the plants turn out to be the aliens. We tried to think of something new. "I know" says Peter. "What if the numbers turn out to be the people?" What indeed. Hmmmm.

"I'm a sandpiper" said the sandpiper.

We had some more vertiginous cliff walking. Eyes front missy!

More lovely beaches, but I still couldn't be bothered to swim.

Clouds copying each other.

"The Last Hill" he assured me. But was it really? Well apart from the other last hill which was to come.

There she blows. The end of the world.

A lucky chance meeting with Tomas and Regina just as we arrived.

There were touristy stalls out selling end of the world things just before we got to the hotel - selling um maybe shells or something, and trail smurfs. I would have given them some good money for a pair of flip-flops. I even asked. But they didn't have any, and the sales-woman who a moment before had been so interested in us now no longer was. Och well. Peter maintains I never made it because there was some bronze boot that you were supposed to go and touch, and I didn't bother. When I got to the hotel what I did was wash my disgusting trainers which had had another prolonged drenching, but this time really thoroughly. I took them in the shower with me. I scrubbed them and scrubbed them and rinsed them and then I hair-dryed them and put them in a pool of sunlight on the window-sill to dry.

Later we went down for dinner. We were given the "sunset" table. Can you guess? I always find a sunset is improved by sub-titles. 

It's possible I had hake again, and it's possible Peter had some little squids. I had clearly had more than him for my first course and the waitress asked him if he wanted another salty dish, which I thought was perceptive of her - and I think maybe salty and savoury are the same thing in Espana. But I could be wrong. Anyway, Peter said no but was there a pudding that would fill him up. I had cheese cake and he had three cheese cheese cake which he declared was the best pudding he'd ever had. And we had some wine. And then we thought we better have some chocolate liqueur again as well.

Aw look he's happy.

Fin.

The next day we were taken in a Taxi back to Santiago de Compostela and our flight wasn't until after 10pm at night. We were just killing time all day and could have done without it, and put in another 9 miles of walking.

My favourite thing was the view from a hill in S de C, which seems a fitting photo to end on.

Cheerios!