The proof of the pudding

As anyone that has entered a big race can testify to, as the day approaches every fibre of ones being becomes focused on the event. Life is effectively put on hold. Now, some two weeks after the Brighton marathon I've finally cleared the backlog of tasks that I had deferred and can sit and reflect.

Emotions were running high as I crossed the line; not the pure joy and elation of having nailed something, I certainly didn't execute a flawless race and I was totally emotionally and physically exhausted. Nevertheless, I experienced a pride of sorts, of having given all of myself to the event, of having achieved what I set out to do. Totally spent in the quest of a worthy endeavour is quite a satisfying place to be.

That I ran 3:15 should have ticked all the boxes eh? You'll remember my perfect plan outlined in my blog entry “Running the numbers” on 5^th February. The goal was to run three times a week, pretty much all on the treadmill, with just a few pacing sessions thrown in at the track, and to limit the mileage to a maximum of 44 miles per week. This was to protect my fragile Achilles that had some years earlier forced me to quit running competitively. It seemed entirely plausible that I could convert a 2:52 time from 2002 into a sub 3:30 even though it was ten years on.

The plan worked like a dream. Of course real life does not mimic art (or even science) and the chart outlying my training load, the road map my Coach and I were following, shows my inherent tendency to overshoot! The pink line is the projected path, and the blue is what actually happened. But all in all we were very happy with the progression. I stayed strong and healthy losing only a single day in the 3 month period to illness and excitingly my running speeds got faster and faster. Every Friday I spent hours at the gym on the treadmill rotating my long runs between 24 miles run steady,  21 miles with the last 5 miles completed at 7 minute mile pace, and my favourite the 'old skool' 15 x 1 mile reps at 6:50 pace. None of these held any fear for me, and with great satisfaction, I ticked all of them off. Monday’s speed work and Wednesday’s tempo session all pointed to a return to my running form of yesteryear, adjusted of course for the passing of time!

Come race day, I was totally ready. Mentally and physically. I'm pretty meticulous (some would say anal) about race preparation and had left no stone unturned. I'd been over the course, I had all my nutrition sorted and I'd visualised how I would feel at certain points, exploring both good & bad. I felt strong and had a private target of sub 3:10. Yes, a significant leap from the initial goal of sub 3:30 but I believed I could do it, and my hard wired competitive streak wasn't going to settle for an easy ride. The only small nagging concern was voiced by my Coach who in stating that she had no doubt I could run a 3:06 marathon ON A TREADMILL then added the killer blow that it may not work out on the road. 

Fast forwarding to the outcome, was she right? Well yes, it pains me to admit it, and it certainly ‘pained’ me on the day but I didn’t nail it as I had hoped. Now, I’m not knocking my time of 3:15 but I did it the hard way and paid the price. Perhaps I was naive in expecting it to be a breeze. After my debut marathon in 2000 in New York where I made all the mistakes know to man, I vowed I would never do that again and subsequently ran two near-perfect races in London in 2001 and 2002, recording times of 2:54 and then 2:52.  Time has a habit of blurring memories though and I fell foul of mistakes again. In hindsight I went off too fast, but even arriving at halfway in a time of 1:32:31 I wasn’t overly concerned; I still believed that a finish of 3:06, perhaps even 3:08 was still realistic. The problem was that my quads had started to hurt before I even got to 8 miles, whether this was due to the hills, the wind or just the unaccustomed pounding of the road on my legs is anyone's guess, but ultimately it proved to be my downfall. It made for a pretty uncomfortable few hours thereafter. While I managed to block out the pain signals until 18 miles, it finally started to tell and my pace started to fade by around 20 seconds per mile. Another slide in pace occurred at 22 miles, and the last two miles really resembled the ‘Mall shuffle’ that we see every year on the TV coverage of the London Marathon. I was so deep in a well of pain that I didn’t notice the crowds, the support, my loved ones; all I could do was place one foot in front of the other until it was over. So much for my visualisation of a triumphant return to marathon running!

Yet, it was still a triumph. Ok I was totally broken, but I did achieve what I set out to do. I just did it the hard way. I proved that it is possible to run a totally respectable 3:15 marathon by limiting training to 3 runs a week, on low mileage and by using only a treadmill. More importantly, my Achilles stayed strong. Would I do it all again, definitely yes; would I do it the same way, hell NO!

Finally, let’s remember why I started this in thr first place. It wasn’t just for me to experiment with running, training plans, numbers and processes, although all of these were immensely pleasurable and I had a ball. The truly satisfying outcome is that I raised the sum of £1,236 for the Lymphoedema Support Network and that is the true proof of the pudding. A massive THANK YOU to one and all who helped me to achieve this.

Worthy

The countdown clock has tripped over to less than 24 hours and as time inexorably ticks down to zero, pauses for an infinitesimal period, and then begins to accumulate again, so I will embark on the last part of my marathon journey.

When I set the target of running a marathon for charity, I had no idea what lay ahead, whether my Achilles would hold up, whether my Lymphoedema would be adversely affected, whether my ‘perfect plan’ would work out. I had no doubt that I would enjoy returning to running, but was uncertain whether my body would let me. Looking back today, and ahead to tomorrow, I am so pleased that I took the leap of faith. I have had a ball. My mental state of mind has been great for many weeks now, and even though the swelling in my leg still frustrates me immensely, it IS part of my life & I just have to deal with it.

My Coach always says that I’m a better ‘trainer’ than ‘competitor’, and I have been in my element for the last four months, banging out session after session. Having said that, the proof of the pudding is in the eating, so we will see whether limiting my runs to just 3 a week, with the heaviest mileage week being only 44 miles, will actually be enough. Funnily enough I think that will be a conversation for me and my inner chimp to have around mile 16 tomorrow!

Talking about my Coach, currently in New York on a Buddhist meditation course, she tweeted these ‘5 tips for running with the mind of meditation’ from Sakyong Mipham Rinpoche; mindfulness, joy, challenge, purpose, worthiness. With the thought of running a marathon on my mind, these of course resonated. However, more so, purpose and worthiness stuck out. The whole raison d'être of this undertaking was to raise money for The Lymphoedema Support Network (LSN), my purpose. Training my body over these past months has, primarily, been to achieve this one objective, to be able to complete the course and raise money. I set a target of £1,000 and due to fantastic support from family, friends, and new acquaintances via social media (thank you twitter followers!), I have exceeded this amount. Not to say that there isn’t room for more, so if you want to join in please donate via www.justgiving.com/JulietteClark.

And then, worthiness; this is where perhaps I feel at my most vulnerable and fragile mentally. We, as athletes, tend to feel good about ourselves when mind and body come together, when we are at the ‘top of our world’. But, when there are elements of your body that don’t function as they should, it’s hard to prevent negative feelings of self-loathing from sneaking in. Running this marathon and contemplating the challenge for tomorrow I am reminded of my worth. I can and will run 26.2 miles; I can and will achieve my first goal of my ‘just giving year’ as I have a truly respectable sum to hand over to LSN; and I can and will feel worthy when I cross that finish line with arms aloft.

To all of you that have supported me with messages of good luck and inspiration, thank you for helping me on this journey.

Transitions

Last week marked the vernal equinox, officially the transition from winter to spring. Here in the UK, we also moved our clocks to British Summer Time on Sunday morning, reinforcing the seasonal change. For athletes, the new season not only brings warmer and brighter conditions but in a lot of cases, a change in emphasis too. Cyclists put an end to long winter miles and begin to focus on sharpening for their chosen events. The time trial season gets going in earnest and the hard work really starts. For runners and especially marathon runners quite the opposite is true. For them the hard miles have been put in and the focus turns to the final few quality sessions and the taper. For them the arduous and demanding phase of the ‘season’ is almost done; spring brings a period of transition, at least until the job/race is done.

As both a runner and a cyclist, I am fortunate to have one leg in each camp, the marathon miles have been banked and I can eagerly anticipate the amazing journeys I have ahead this year with Hot Chillee on London to Paris (www.londres-paris.com) and the Alpine Challenge (www.thealpinechallenge.com). As I become more integrated into the Hot Chillee family I feel more and more privileged and inspired; but more on this later.  Having had a near-perfect build up to the marathon, it would be rather foolish to spoil it and take my eye of the ball in these last two weeks. The excitement of impending cycling adventures can wait just a bit longer!

For today and the next two weeks I want to reflect on the motivation behind my marathon challenge (see my blog entry of 14^th January). Raising money for charity is always a brilliant incentive; it drives you on when you start to feel a bit sorry for yourself both during the hard slog of training and during the race when the going gets tough. So now, with a little more time on my hands, I'd like to really focus on this aspect.

Lymphoedema is not fashionable, it doesn't command column inches in the health sections of the press and it is woefully under-funded. Yet there are many, many people, young and old, whose lives are blighted by this condition. The Lymphoedema Support Network (http://www.lymphoedema.org/) is one of only a few resources available in the UK, and I would really like to make a contribution of worth. I set myself a target of £1000 and am currently standing at just over £400 in sponsorship. I very much appreciate the support from those that have already been incredibly generous, nevertheless I would like to implore my other friends, followers and readers of my blog to join in and support me too. Any contribution no matter how small would be absolutely fabulous! Just click on www.justgiving.com/JulietteClark to donate.

Chattering Chimp

It has been over three weeks since my last blog entry when I laid out the ‘grand plan’ for achieving my marathon goal. Planning in isolation is a surreal undertaking; it is a process that starts in the imagination, where thoughts are conjured up. In this nascent stage, there is little form to the plan, just wishes, desires and ideas. It is the ordering of these components that gives structure, from which a sensible formula is derived that finally is transformed into reality.

As a mathematician I put a lot of substance in order; not the kind of day to day order that is associated with obsessive-compulsive behaviour (although there is a fair amount of this in my personality too) but I love the mathematical order of life, of nature, and of the universe. Fibonacci sequences and geometric series fascinate me; the process of creating beauty from mathematics is enthralling. I love the elegance of a perfectly formed equation and the exquisiteness of a closed-form solution. So too in plans; a perfectly formed plan, meticulously executed is right up there as my definition of pleasure!

Margaret Thatcher is credited with the quote “Plan your work for today and every day, then work your plan” and when I worked as a trader we used to follow the premise “plan your trade and then trade your plan”. It made a lot of sense; it took sentiment out of the equation in a marketplace driven by hugely-powerful twin emotions of fear and greed. The same applies of course to training plans and it is not for nothing that my Coach calls me “Robot”; I’m pretty good at following a plan as programmed.

Nevertheless, having the ‘perfect’ training plan has potential problems when converted to reality. I’m a process person and if I truly believe that the plan created is the irrefutable solution, then I am very, very reluctant to change it or let it go. I will fight tooth and nail to religiously adhere to every step, every component part that makes up my elegant creation. Ok, I can be flexible if I really have too, I’ve had enough setbacks in my life to be realistic, but in my mind I am then settling for second best or worse; the beauty of the plan has been spoilt and while it may still be practicable it becomes uglier.

So why go into all this detail? Why expose my obsessive-compulsive traits?

Well it explains what I have been dealing with in the three weeks plus since I started the ’10-week-to-race-day’ plan. Nothing has gone wrong; in fact all of it has gone swimmingly. However, I’ve had a lot of chattering from my inner chimp. To use Steve Peters’s model, the chimp represents the emotional part of my brain – that part that I wished to silence by creating the perfect plan in the first place. This is the fear factor; the ‘what if’ statements. I have found myself suddenly worrying about all manner of events that might derail me from the perfect path, and rather than having my usual confidence to start workouts secure in the knowledge that I will complete, however tough, I have been plagued by anxiety. Throughout these past weeks I have been fighting negative talk; what if I can’t do this, what if it is too hard, what if I fail; then the plan will be ruined. Suddenly every individual element of the plan was becoming a test, a goal of its own. This is particularly ridiculous as I am not even "racing" the marathon. And the rationale behind the marathon endeavour has never been about the outcome. What vexes me and sets off nagging doubts is the undoing of my ‘perfect’ plan, the beautifully formed and elegant plan.

Time has triggered this chimp activity. As in any system, the erosion of time towards a critical date intensifies the influence of volatility. Pension valuations illustrate this only too well, where those with many years to retirement are pretty immune to day to day fluctuations in the underlying assets, however it is a different story for those fast approaching their final valuation date, when any sudden movements in the stock market can have a catastrophic effect. The same can be said of chimp noise; when there is plenty of time to play with, the chimp noise can be easily muted, but as D-day approaches the loudness intensifies and can be hard to drown out. Athletes with Olympic aspirations will know this only too well as time inexorably marches on towards 27^th July 2012.

It is worth noting that my Chimp isn't menacing, there are no bared teeth, it is much more of a comical creation along the lines of the primates used in the adverts in the 70s. Nevertheless it is definitely a nuisance. I like quiet, I need this to concentrate and I hate background noise. That is why I don’t train with music, however motivational it might be. I like to tap into the process not obscure it. That is why the chattering, the noise from my comedy chimp is an annoyance, and is disruptive. It has drained my emotional resources just at a time when I need to be concentrating fully on the physical and physiological demands of the training.

Of course, all this worry, this self-doubt, the noise and chattering from the chimp has been unfounded. Not that I’ve found the way to cage the chimp but it has exhausted itself for now and I’ve found a rationale to manage it. I’m learning to accept that this process does not HAVE to be mapped out absolutely, without deviation. Yes, I do want to track the plan, to fulfill my strong desire for perfection, but if this doesn’t pan out it is not a failure; indeed I may even learn new skills as a result. Opportunities, not threats!

Running the numbers

Modern art is a passion of mine and recently I came across a fascinating sculpture by French artist Alexandre Durand that captured my imagination. It is titled "Numerous sum ergo sum" and it utterly enchanted me. As you can see from the picture, it is a friendly duck, proudly exposing a digital dial pad in place of its beak, a reference to codes and numbers that define our digitised society. The title is a modification of Descartes philosophical statement “Cogito, ergo sum”; “I think, therefore I am”. The link between numbers is intensified due to the significance of science in our times; classification and numbering turn anything into mathematics and statistics. I am a number, therefore I am.

Nowhere is this more true than in the pursuit of athletic excellence. Put a group of marathon runners in a room together and very quickly the conversation will be dominated by numbers, roughly breaking into four main categories, (i) the number of miles completed each week, (ii) the length of their weekly long run, (iii) the hoary issue of speed work; how fast and for how long, and finally in the anxious days before the race itself, (iv) the specifics of the taper.

There is a wealth of expert opinion on all of the above and, in my previous incarnation as a marathon runner some ten years or more ago, I stuck dogmatically to the conventional theories. But, this time faced with certain limiting factors (a weak Achilles and Lymphoedema), I’m running with my own numbers, and some unorthodox theories. Flying in the face of long-held wisdom may seem a tad foolish but the numbers do add up, and for the geeks amongst you I’d like to share my method.

100 mile-weeks are long gone; this time I believe I can still achieve a reasonable performance on less than half of that. The difference is specificity and that ALL my training is at or faster than intended marathon pace; my speed work is over a minute per mile faster, tempo runs are conducted at 20 seconds per mile faster, and my long runs are at marathon pace. One of the reasons that I can assimilate this physiological effort is because my training stress is carefully managed on the four days a week when I do not run. Yes, I do cycle on three of these days, and I have not limited the quality of these workouts either, but Coach Helen and I have crafted a structure that is working really well. So, how do we know this? How can we be sure whether I am doing enough, or conversely too much?

Applying a methodology that has long been used by cyclists, a Training Stress Score (TSS) is calculated for each workout. These scores are then used to monitor Chronic Training Load (CTL), which very roughly speaking is a 6-week average of training stress. The key to any training program is to push the boundaries and thereby build fitness and enhance performance, without overloading the system and breaking. Having five seasons of data to review, I know the true characteristics of the training stress I can absorb and how far we can push CTL. What is different this time is that running rather than cycling is now my main stress factor.

This graph shows the progression of my CTL since last August when I first considered the prospect of taking on the marathon challenge. I came from a very low level of run training, but the blue line shows that my fitness has built steadily. A cold at the end of November explains the brief downturn in my training load but, that aside, the four-week periodisation is clear, as is the point when the run training starts to ramp up at the end of last year. The peaks in CTL have got me perfectly to my ‘perceived’ boundary with exactly 10 weeks to go. Flawless!

From tomorrow, I switch onto a 3-week periodisation that is very precisely detailed. The best laid plans do not always pan out, BUT if it all comes together the pink line reflects the progression of training load in this key period up to race day. Although I approach the upper boundary of my chronic training load three more times, this is vigilantly managed and my physiological ceiling is respected. Reducing each day, each workout to a number, a training stress score, makes this a mathematicians fantasy; I am a runner, I am a number, therefore I am.

Support me on my marathon journey at http://www.justgiving.com/JulietteClark

High Excitement

As part of my marathon training Friday is 'long run' day. When I reveal to the running stalwarts in my sphere of friends that all my training is done on the treadmill I wait for the standard recoil and looks of horror. But, there are many benefits of training indoors, especially during the winter when a controlled environment provides a great comparison week on week as to my progression. More importantly, though, I find the 'give' on the treadmill to be kinder to my Achilles. Lymphoedema aside, my damaged Achilles is the biggest threat to my marathon goal and I will do whatever is necessary to give myself the best chance of success. If this means banging out up to 3 hours of a long run on the treadmill then so be it. In a bizarre way I actually relish this challenge and use my time productively. I don't listen to music or watch the bank of TV screens, I just run and I think. This is my time for me and usually my mind takes me on an enthralling journey. Juggling work, home life, and both running and cycling training means there is not much spare time in my life and running has become marvelously therapeutic.

This Friday, my mind quickly settled on the exciting plans for 2012 beyond the marathon. Hardly surprising as the previous night I attended the HotChillee Ride Captain and Sponsors dinner. Let me explain a little about HotChillee. They are the organisation behind the phenomenally successful London to Paris (L2P) and Alpine Challenge events. In 2010 I rode L2P and was completely overwhelmed by the experience. Their strap line is "Professional Events for Amateurs" and they are not wrong. Over the years I've taken part in a lot of mass participation events; large scale triathlons ranging from National and World championships, big city marathons in both New York and London and have even competed at the supremely slickly organised Hawaii Ironman. Yet none of these compared to my HotChillee experience. Wow. So impressed was I that I immediately signed up for the inaugural Alpine Challenge that year and returned to L2P in 2011. Many, many others do the same; it's interesting to reflect why? Having ridden between London and Paris once, what's the lure of doing it again? And again. And again. Yet many do. Year after year. The magic is in the whole experience, the camaraderie, that it is just a wonderful three days on your bike. HotChillee are the people that make this happen.

I was hooked, and felt impelled to get more involved. On the road during the events each group of riders is mentored, encouraged and if need be, controlled, by an army of Ride Captains. David (the Bull) and Will, assigned to my group, were an integral part of my enjoyment and inspired me to push to new levels. The Ride Captains are the front line of HotChillee, the ambassadors of the brand and they are brilliant people. Imagine my delight therefore when recently I was accepted on to the Ride Captain Development Squad. I was bursting with pride. This means that I get the chance to become a part of the HotChillee family, to learn the skills needed to be a fully-fledged Ride Captain (RC) and at some stage in the future I hope to guide, assist and support fellow athletes on their own personal journey of attainment. If I can convey just a fraction of the pleasure I have had, we all will be winners.

The duties of a RC start months before the event itself, with organised training rides starting in January, the first of which is tomorrow. So, this evening, as I prepare all my kit, I feel excited, but also mildly apprehensive. Tomorrow, I begin to learn my trade, and to get to know fellow L2P 2012 participants, be they familiar faces from previous years or new-comers.  Only time will tell, but I hope to strike up new friendships and play a part in the achievement of others – this time it’s all about them!

Just Giving

A year ago, faced with the prospect of Lymphoedema for the rest of my life, with no cure and a stark absence of treatments, it felt that my whole world was changing. I was scared and felt abandoned by the medical profession. My GP tried his best but he knew less about my condition than  I did! Trawling the internet for the most part just added to my woes, revealing shocking images of grotesquely swollen limbs. However, my internet quest did bring up one gem, the Lymphoedema Support Network (LSN). Here was an organisation committed to helping people just like me and I seized on the chance to find out as much as I could, signed up for membership and with it gained access to a massive array of  information booklets, DVDs, a telephone helpline and self-help resources. In the last year, pushing their remit forward, the LSN has also instigated a major drive in the area of GP education, laying down important foundations for earlier diagnosis and better support.

Lymphoedema that occurs post-cancer is an area of medicine that has generated some research interest but in the main it's woefully under funded. This makes even more remarkable the service that the LSN provide. As part of my '2012 resolution of giving' my first task therefore is to try and raise some money for the LSN.

So how am I going to do this? Not wanting to depart too much from what I know, but also wanting to make it a challenge worthy of my friends & families support, I have signed up to run the Brighton Marathon on April 15th.

It will be 10 years since I last competed over the marathon distance. Since then I've endured a chronic Achilles tendonitis injury that stopped me running for 2 years and pushed me into cycling, not to mention having to deal with Lymphoedema. In recent years I've dabbled with a minor run element in my weekly program but nothing like the distance I need to build up to give due respect to the marathon distance. But that's part of the challenge.

Coach Helen and I sat down some months ago when this idea was first hatched to see if it was a realistic goal. Being sensible my damaged Achilles was never going to allow me to run repeatedly day after day and the high mileage approach I adopted ten years ago was a definite no-go. We devised a plan comprising of only 3 runs a week, training on alternate days of Monday, Wednesday & Friday, with a limit of around 40-45 miles per week. With my mind also on other challenges to come post marathon, we’ve combined these runs with my more usual bike training and it’s intriguing to see whether this ‘less is more’ approach will work.

Gradually I've been getting the necessary miles under my belt and now feel that I'll be there on race day.  For sure it will not be like my last race in April 2002; then I was in the championship race at the London Marathon and ran a respectable 2:52. I competed for myself, for personal gain.  This time it’s about completing not competing; how fast I run is mostly irrelevant although my hard-wired competitive streak has set a target of sub-3:30. This time it's about pushing to the limit for a far worthier cause and sincerely hope that you too will join me on this journey. I resolve to push out the bounds and run 26.2 miles, will you visit my charity page www.justgiving.com/JulietteClark and sponsor me?

Time to give

Reading my last blog entry that was all the way back in April 2011 is a timely reminder of how life moves on. What then felt like a cataclysmic event in my life has now faded into a distant memory. Any readers that don't know me personally may have worried about the outcome, whether I recovered from my knee injury, whether I won the unequal struggle against Lymphoedema. The absence of posts in the last eight months suggest one of two things; either it all went horribly wrong and I couldn't bring myself to write about it, or life returned to normal and day to day tasks took over. Thankfully it was the latter and the past months have been a rewarding learning experience and the future looks bright.

A quick review of what has passed in this period from the perspective of an athlete; I did manage my 'test ' sessions and committed to the HotChillee organised London to Paris bike ride in June. Rich came over from Brisbane and, apart from an issue with his bike frame that was damaged in transit (thanks Sigma Sport http://www.sigmasport.co.uk/ for building a brand new bike in a matter of days) we had the most fantastic time. Ok, I wasn't as fit and prepared as I wanted to be but I still rode my heart out, competed hard with my group 2 co-riders and shed a few tears of relief and joy when we rode in grand procession down the Champs-Élysées to finish under the Tour Eiffel. Rich, Kath, Vicki and I had an excellent evening of celebration. Round one: Juliette 1, Lymphoedema nil. Well it wasn't quite nil to Lymphoedema, as my leg was swollen after three days and 520k in the saddle but it was manageable and was a small price to pay for the elation of the achievement.

This was my highlight of 2011 and was a damascene milestone in helping me conquer the fears that my life was going to change for the worse; in truth little has changed. I'm still an athlete (erstwhile), I train between 10 and 15 hours a week and have some really exciting goals for 2012 (more about these later). I have my health and my happiness. Lymphoedema is a nuisance but it hasn't prevented me from doing things; we had a week in the sun in the summer and we flew long-haul to New York in November, both of which I thought if not impossible then implausible this time last year. I manage my condition; it does not rule me. Some days are good, some are not so, but I've learnt what I need to do, and the rising swell of panic, uncertainty, frustration, helplessness are all part of the past. I truly hope that other Lymphoedema sufferers reading this will take heart from my experiences and believe that life can, does and will go on pretty much as normal.

So what now? Well I freely admit that the past twelve months have been a lot about me; about dealing with Lymphoedema, more than once I caught myself lamenting that "I didn't want this to happen to me". But it did and, hey, really it's not that bad.  Having spent this time in an egocentric state I firmly believe now that it's time to redress the balance. 2012 is therefore my year of giving back. Check back in a couple of weeks for more details and to join me on a new journey.

What is Time?

To quote Saint Augustine, “What then is time? If no one asks me, I know what it is. If I wish to explain it to him who asks, I do not know.”

A quantitative expression of time, defined in physical terms, is that it is a measure of changes of a system. However, from a philosophical perspective if we are the system, this will have a large impact on how we think about time and the temporal aspects of reality.  So, why the venture into the thorny subject of time, and run the risk of getting all bogged down in quantum physics? Well, it seems that it’s been a few weeks since my last blog entry, yet ‘lymphoedema-time’ has different characteristics and, in my system, time is on a go-slow.

It’s been a tough learning curve to realise that for my body, the healing process is now incredibly slow-moving, that an injury which should realistically have cleared up within weeks has instead taken months. My new reality has undergone a temporal shift but finally I am getting to a place of equilibrium and acceptance. I now fully understand that time moves at a different pace to my pre-lymphoedema entity and having acquired a new life-skill of patience (though not particularly graciously!) I am now on the road to recovery. My softly, softly approach and willingness to spend hours doing laps in the swimming pool seem to have paid off and this week I have managed a couple of hours of riding and even a 1 hour walk / run session. My knee isn’t completely fixed, but I have a handle of what I can do without ruining all the good rehab work that I’ve done, and as long as I continue to take small steps forward, I feel optimistic. This is a major breakthrough for me and means I can start to contemplate the prospect of riding the 520K from London to Paris this June.

I signed up for this event back in November last year, blissfully unaware of the problems that were to follow, and managed to persuade one of my friends from my days at University to do it with me. Imagine how troubled I’ve felt recently when I didn’t know whether I’d be able to participate, especially when I tell you that Rich is coming all the way from Brisbane! It may still all go horribly wrong, but if I can manage back-to-back 2 hour rides this weekend, followed by back-to-back 3 hour rides next weekend, Coach Helen and I reckon it is 'game on'. We then have eight weeks to build the necessary layers of fitness.

The other example of ‘lymphoedema-time’ is the period that has followed since my diagnosis pre-Christmas and obtaining relevant and useful assistance. I come from a long-line of problem solvers and there are more than a few ‘project managers’ in my life, all of which I can pretty much hold my own with. Hence the tasks of identifying specialists, making arrangements for consultations, and following up with practical applications should all have been straightforward to tick off the list. Not so. Being proactive, I have been lucky enough to build a network of people that can help me, notably experts like Prof Mortimer. But from a day-to-day lymphoedema-management perspective I have had no sway over the time it takes to get into the local NHS system. Thankfully this has started to happen in recent days and I am now under the care of a registered lymphoedema therapist, I have been prescribed with the first tranche of medical compression garments and a request for funding for Manual Lymphatic Drainage has gone to my local PCT.

Adopting a new ‘take’ on time has helped me build on the Zen state of mind alluded to in my blog entry on 13^th January and not to get completely stressed and depressed either about being injured or having to deal with lymphoedema. Is there any relevance of time in the present in connection with time in the past? I guess not. Focusing on the now, it all seems to be coming good again, and I fervently hope this augurs well for the future. Tick tock.

Softly Softly Catchee Monkey

After a mixed response to last week’s slightly unorthodox blog entry (that took the guise of some fascinating discussions but also one or two yawns!), this week I return to more commonplace topics of Lymphoedema and exercise, or rather lack of exercise and too much oedema.  This is the eighth week since the injury to my knee forced me off my bike and into the pool. Since then I've covered almost 45 miles of swimming, spent hours in the weights room and have stubbornly endured almost 13 hours on the hand cycle. What should have taken 3 to 6 weeks at the most to heal has shifted expectations of normality and brought home how much things have changed since the lymphatic system in my right leg gave up the ghost.

To give my malfunctioning healing-system a much-needed boost, I had an injection in my knee around 10 days ago. The standard theory post an intervention of this type is 3 days of rest; I had 5 days off as a sort of ‘belt and braces’ approach and because we just don’t know what is ‘normal’ for me yet. Extremely tentatively, I have since started back training. Alternating between the cross-trainer and low wattage cycling, supplemented with yet more swimming, I have managed 20 minutes, then 30 minutes and am now progressing to 45 minutes back on the bike. Nervously I am monitoring every second, and there is still some soreness, but it is a different type of discomfort. A few years back after a heart-breaking Achilles injury that ruined my pretensions of being a competitive runner, I experienced a similar pain when I returned to the treadmill. Then it was just a case of the muscle memory hanging on to the pain sensation, and this time round I’m fervently hoping it is the same. So softly, softly I am following yet another rehab plan, and if I can survive this week unscathed, there will finally be a light at the end of the tunnel.

This will be just as well as during this injury period my ability to manage the lymphoedema has been woefully inadequate. Without the tool of exercise, lymph clearance has been pretty much nonexistent and my leg has swollen substantially, dealing another blow to my wretched mental state that has been under siege for a number of weeks now. Here too though, I see the light breaking through. My diagnosis of lymphoedema was delivered on December 14^th, and now almost four months later, next Wednesday 6^th April, I have finally arranged an appointment to see a Lymphoedema specialist in Brighton. This is the culmination of a good deal of effort in finding the right person to deal with and waiting while referrals are made, but it is quite a relief to have identified someone who has a wealth of experience in dealing with Lymphoedema. This means I can get properly measured and fitted with medical-grade compression hosiery, perhaps not the most aesthetically pleasing garments but significantly preferable to a distended and swollen limb which is the alternative! I should also be able to get a course of Manual Lymphatic Drainage, as and when needed, and be tutored in the skills of self-massage rather than replicating what I have read in a pamphlet. Moreover, it will be a comfort and encouragement to have someone to talk to on a semi-regular basis, who understands lymphoedema, and can guide me from a practical perspective on the management of the condition.

Don’t say it too loudly, but ‘softly softly’ could bring a fresh glow into my life next week, with a return to training and access to much-needed professional help on the Lymphoedema front too. Fingers crossed that it’s an easier roller to ride.

Natural Laws

It is not often that I talk about my work. Mostly this is because it’s quite difficult to explain what I do, that when I do it’s not easy to understand and more fundamentally it’s just not that interesting unless you are a maths or markets geek. However, currently there is some relevance, so the short of it is that I earn a living from meticulous analysis of the movements in price series in the financial markets. Using a number of proprietary mathematical models to map the characteristics of a series, I try to gain an insight into forthcoming price action. With my principles rooted in Gann analysis, one of the techniques I employ is the Law of Vibration.

This is a universal law, with many and varied applications. It refers to the premise that the essence of all things is vibration; that everything in the universe is composed of packets of energy and each of these vibrates at specific frequencies. In a pure form it is a simple process to map a standard vibration or oscillation about a stable equilibrium point, be it, for example, the periodic motion of a pendulum or the sine wave produced by a tuning fork.  Bizarrely, the law of vibration is often cited on self-help sites as an essential element of wealth creation, that successful and prosperous people have a common emotional frequency. It’s said that aspiring individuals only have to identify and adopt said frequency to change their lives and wealth. This is not something I buy into, but it does illustrate how natural or universal laws can be applied.

What is important to understand is that even within a system that is well documented, like the financial markets, there are shifts in the resonance or rhythm which alters the nature of the vibration, and this is where an analyst worth their salt will make their money. It’s knowing when the parameters have altered and adjusting accordingly.

The transition from a stable to an unstable system can have devastating effects, in physics terms this can be related to the difference between free vibration and forced vibration, when an unexpected shock is applied. In recent weeks we may all think that the world has gone mad, but perhaps it’s all down to a monumental force applied to an increasingly unstable new vibration mode. We have seen seismic shifts on a geopolitical level that have swept through the Arab world resulting in regime change in a number of countries and now the prospect of a conflict in Libya that has extended the reaches far beyond geographical limitations to the international world. The geophysical system has also been shaken to a new vibration period, amplitude and frequency by the recent earthquakes that have wrecked havoc and resulted in mind-boggling and heart-wrenching loss of life and livelihood in Japan and New Zealand, not forgetting the floods and cyclone that hit Australia. These disasters have shaken to the core the physical foundations of our natural world.

On a fractal level, my natural vibration has had an external force applied and my rhythm has been thrown off balance. I feel like bad luck is piling up, that not only have I had the diagnosis of lymphoedema, a condition that I’m going to have to deal with every day for the rest of my life, but to compound it, I have suffered a particularly nasty injury that means I can neither do the things I love, like cycling and running, nor can I manage as effectively the swelling in my leg.  Sometimes I just want to scream why me? Don’t get me wrong, I’m not comparing my situation with the suffering elsewhere in the world, on that scale it doesn’t even register, but to me it is not inconsiderable.

Looking forward, on a rational perspective, people in Japan, New Zealand and Australia will rebuild their physical lives; the nations whose political systems have been dismantled will also emerge with new governance and hopefully fledgling democracies will endure. I too will manage, adapt and move on. The law of vibration can be used as a vehicle for good; it’s up to me on a personal level to make sure this is the outcome that I achieve.

Wednesday’s Child

For those of you familiar with the nursery rhyme Monday’s Child, which tells a child's character or future based on the day they were born, you’ll know that “Wednesday's child is full of woe”. This is rather apt as I am a Wednesday Child and have been known to carry round my own little bag of woe. That’s not to say that I suffer from anything as serious as depression but I do sometimes just feel inherently sad. There is nothing specific that heralds its arrival or departure, nor is there any pattern to how long it may last; it is just something that I’ve learnt is a part of me.

Right now, I’m going through one of these episodes, hence the absence of a blog update for a couple of weeks. My time-honoured ‘coping’ strategy is to disconnect with the outside world until the view brightens, I tend to internalize rather than wanting to share. But I realise that if I’m going to be true to the blogging process, I should contribute when I’m feeling blue as well as when things are looking rosy.

Obviously my knee injury is a major factor in how I’m feeling. Not only is it incredibly frustrating and has completely destabilised my day-to-day equilibrium but it also means that I’m not getting my ‘happy fix’ of endorphins from the strenuous exercise that has been a part of my life for so long. Nor do I have the self-satisfied feeling of achievement when another training goal is attained. The injury is probably the worst I have suffered, ever, not in terms of severity but in that it is particularly pernicious and has persisted for so long. There is still no end in sight and even with all the treatments my physio is throwing at it, we are still looking at weeks before my knee is fully rehabilitated. Tentatively we’ve attempted a couple of efforts of very gentle cycling but these have led to post-exercise pain and have obviously been premature. So I’m forced to process another delay, and to wade through another cycle of anger, bargaining, depression and finally acceptance. I feel like I’m in mourning, and when I put it like this, it’s not such a surprise that I feel so sad. In the bigger scheme of things I’m incredibly fortunate and have so much to be thankful for, this especially on a day when another natural disaster has devastated large swathes of Japan, but mentally I am weary and am carrying a heavy heart.

Interestingly though I did have an enlightening and edifying experience this week when I was lucky enough to have a consultation with Prof Peter Mortimer, who is considered to be the leading clinician in the UK in the field of Lymphoedema management.

Until this appointment I'd been floundering around with regards to the specifics of my condition; sure I'd read all I could and had gleaned and applied those parts that I considered relevant but had had little help from my local resources. Unfortunately there isn't a Lymphoedema clinic in Brighton and although my consultant requested a referral to the community nurse over a month ago, I'm still waiting to hear back.

This lack of support is something that a great many Lymphoedema sufferers encounter and they often feel isolated and forgotten in the system following their diagnosis. Certainly I've been left to fend for myself for the three months since my diagnosis. Everyone close to me has done a great job in helping me find things out but at times it has in truth been a case of the blind leading the blind.

To have access to a respected expert was a genuine coup. I had been pinning a lot of hopes on my meeting with Prof Mortimer. Coach Helen came along too so we could cover all the angles from an athletic / physiological perspective as well as the day to day advice that I needed, and neither of us were disappointed. He was at great pains to explain in layman terms how the lymphatic system works and what dysfunction means, and more specifically what the implications are for me. He spoke with genuine interest and a desire to help me, and I really felt at ease with him. We found out that my lymphoedema should have little or no impact on my athletic performance, and that I should not need to compromise on the higher intensity workouts that are an essential part of preparing to race.  All this was very encouraging. He is also going to put me in touch with a Lymphoedema specialist in my area for the day to day tasks. After a very productive discussion we agreed to meet again in a few months time; quite a fillip to have someone of such high regard interested in my case.

Ironically, it was a remark by Prof Mortimer that brought home how Lymphoedema is changing my life. I mentioned my knee injury and speculated whether the swelling around my knee may have played a part in throwing the tracking out. He thought this unlikely but did suggest that the healing process would be compromised. In hindsight, this is now obvious. Without a functioning lymphatic system, my body will struggle to heal the inflammation and repair the damage. What would take a ‘normal’ athlete six weeks to recover from is going to be far longer for me. This explains why my knee is taking an age to mend, and also that this process is going to go on for a while.  

Strangely, knowing that my rehab from my knee injury could take a lot longer has, if anything made me more sanguine. My only concern is whether I’ll be fit enough to ride London to Paris this summer, but Helen assures me I’ll be fine. I just need to wait for the cloud to lift, for my knee to mend, and then I’ll be back.

Moving forward

Frustratingly my injury has still not cleared. It is a whole lot better but I still have a nagging pain that is stubbornly refusing to shift. This means that I’m rather stuck in limbo. The rehab plan has been sketched out, but we can’t put this into action until my knee is 100% pain free. So I’m waiting patiently. I found a hand cycle at the gym and have added this to my 'survival' techniques. It’s amazing how tough an hour of this exercise is; not only does it work arms and shoulders but it also challenges core stability and requires the recruitment of the majority of trunk muscles to maintain posture. This, together with swimming and a couple of upper body routines in the weights room have provided sufficient variety to keep me motivated.

All the upper body training has also produced a transformation. Let's face it, endurance cyclists are not well known for their upper body muscle (why put on extra mass that has to be lugged up climbs and which adds zero to the ability to produce power?). I’m no exception to this rule. Yes, I have always been toned with quite distinct muscle definition, a throwback to the days when I was a ‘circuit training queen’ but no bulk and I was definitely more Olive Oyl than Popeye. However, in recent weeks the growth in my arm muscles has been quite spectacular. As part of my lymphoedema management, I measure the girth of my legs in several places on a daily basis. Upon reflection it would have been really interesting to a numbers geek like me to have been doing the same to my arms and seen what the difference is. These pictures probably tell the story best though! Anyone for an arm wrestle?

Mentally, I’ve also moved on. One of the favourite sayings that I grew up with was “worry about things you can change”. My Father has many of these mantra’s (some of them of more questionable perspicacity than others), but this is an adage that has much merit. I’ve processed the stress and disappointment that my injury generated and armed with the knowledge that I can’t make it mend any quicker, I’ve progressed to accentuate the positive. The silver line to my injury cloud is that I’ve been able to research and acquire a shiny new toy.

One of the common characteristics of cyclists and triathletes is that we all adore new gadgets and equipment. Magazines are full of ‘tech’ sections with glossy pictures of new components, shiny bits and pieces and freakishly light parts. Even a non-mathematician will appreciate that two race bikes and eight wheels don’t quite add up when I can only ride one bike and two wheels at any one time, but I absolutely consider all this equipment to be totally essential. Half the fun of ‘buying’ is the research that goes into making the ‘right’ decision. And with time on my hands, I’ve been able to secure and try out a new piece of kit, the NormaTec MVP.

To be fair, I’ve known about this equipment for some time. I read it about it when the pro-cycling team Garmin blogged about the MVP (“Most Valuable Pump”) back in July 2008, http://www.slipstreamsports.com/2008/07/11/our-secret-recovery-weapon. Coach Helen and I started researching this in more earnest though once I got the diagnosis of Lymphoedema. One of her contacts at British Cycling opined that by far and away the most effective way of reducing oedema was through the use of a pneumatic compression device, and time and time again our inquiries and investigations kept leading us to NormaTec.

The reason why the MVP is so directly applicable for me is that it was developed initially as a medical treatment for lymphoedema (www.normatecusa.com) but has also successfully transferred as a sports-specific recovery-aid; a double plus for an athlete with lymphoedema. I made contact with the company and sparked up a great relationship with Gilad Jacobs, who leads NormaTec's Sports Medicine division (www.normatecsports.com). Knowing that Gilad’s degree was in communication, I’d expected his delivery to be extremely professional, and it certainly was. But what I also noticed from a lengthy chat with him via Skype was a real passion for the product, the company, and his total belief that the NormaTec MVP would truly help me. It really wasn’t just marketing hype. He was especially interested in my unique position as a ‘hybrid’, someone who can benefit from the MVP from both a medical and athletic perspective. It probably helps that NormaTec is a family run company and that they have all bought into the mission of improving the lives of patients; it feels like they do care.  I got a great vibe from our contact and, thanks to some generous support from Gilad, a deal was struck.

This is the thrilling news that I alluded to a couple of weeks ago. As part of the decision making process I’d asked around for other athlete’s viewpoints. Luckily enough, thanks to Si (my go-to man), I got in touch with Chrissie Wellington, triple World Ironman Champion in 2007, 2008 and 2009 and NormaTec user. This is what she said about the NormaTec MVP, “They are really good. They compress really well, and also pulsate with peristaltic movements up and down the leg. I rate them, although obviously it’s hard to isolate one thing as being the cause of improvement (athletically at least).” It was with great excitement and trepidation that I unpacked the box a few weeks later,

Although the use of the MVP was scheduled as part of the Lymphoedema management plan, when this was shelved as a consequence of my injury, so too was the timetable for introducing this management tool. Helen and I decided that with the anecdotal evidence of its efficacy we should press ahead and start using it anyway; we could always revisit the testing protocol at a later stage.

Fully aware that the NormaTec MVP is neither a cure nor a panacea for all the lymphoedema ills, that is certainly doesn’t replace any of the other management techniques such as compression and SLD, what I can say from the initial results is that I am VERY impressed. Its early days but I really believe that this piece of equipment can make a real difference. It has produced a massive boost to my state of mind and the sun is shining again. Much more on this in blogs to come.

Limping Along

Time has stood still and I remain cast adrift; all a result of the persistence of my knee injury. The Lymphoedema management project has been shelved, for now at least, and all my energies have been directed to my knee. The injury has proved far more pernicious than I first thought or hoped, and has really tested my mental resources. Although by nature I have a definite “glass half-empty” character, when it comes to what I believe I can achieve, I am the eternal optimist. If this means nailing a tough session, I always believe I am equal to the task; if this means ‘healing myself’, I have faith that I will be cured within a few days. Positive self-talk is a marvellous attribute but is unfortunately not always foolproof, and inevitably I am left disappointed. Ten days on from the first stab of pain, I am not healed and it is desperately tough.

The initial visit to the physio over a week ago was a relief as she diagnosed a tracking problem that should have been relatively easy to fix, no cycling or running but cross training was an alternative. Thankfully I have access to a well equipped gym and I duly trotted out an hour here and another hour there, at least feeling that I was salvaging some remnant of fitness and controlling my lymphoedema. I became fully acquainted with the delights of daytime TV pumped through a bank of TV’s to the audience of middle-aged, middle-classed masses – what a strange world, but that’s another story.  But the pain has persisted and after pushing through a painful final 20 minutes of a one hour cross training workout earlier this week, I conceded defeat and stopped all lower body exercise. Back to the pool I went, pull buoy and hand paddles at the ready.

A huge amount of upper body work in recent days has allowed me to keep my spirits up for the most part but this too is starting to take its toll and has its own problems, such as developing shoulder issues and weariness. It would be just like me to throw myself into something that in reality I’m totally unconditioned for, and then create another injury! Going from zero kilometres of swimming back to my old levels of 10K-12K in one week sounds like a recipe for swimmers shoulder!

A visit to my Sports Med Doctor today has shed more light on the problem, and I should be pleased that it is not serious, it is patellofemoral pain most likely caused by tightness in my quad (rectus femoris) muscle. But the prognosis is rest, stretch, rest, stretch and more rest, stretch. Repeat, until the pain has vanished. Not what I wanted to hear. I already stretch religiously and can quite easily get my head round doing more. Far harder is dealing with more rest, but this is what I know I have to do.

Coach Helen and I have discussed the options over our usual latte this afternoon. I always put a considerable amount of faith in the fact that she will be able to help; she has the uncanny knack of getting straight to the relevant point and knows me almost as well as I know myself. We are very similar in outlook and very often I get a virtual mirror image straight back of what I project out. Perhaps that’s why we get on so well? So another plan has been hatched, just to get me through the next week before I return to the physio. I will continue to swim, even though my aversion to the water is every bit as strong. Encouraging tweets from triathlon queen, Tamar, have spurred me on in the pool. And, at least while I trawl up and down the lane I feel that in some small way I am doing something positive to preserve a small element of my fitness and manage my lymphoedema. Right now this is all I have to hold onto, but it will do!