Archives for category: General

In Part 2 of 7 Days to 10K I shared my trepidation about phase 2 of the plan, which was to run 8K on the treadmill, the first serious test of my body’s resilience and recovery from injury.

Well, I got through it, just about. I did indeed run 8K, in the grand old time of 52:17. It’s the longest I’ve run in years. It was hard. I had a stitch, sometimes 2 stitches, for most of the way. I haven’t had a stitch for probably 25 years!

I rowed for 5 minutes to warm up, then did some leg stretches to get in the mood. I’d been worried about this run all day and wasn’t sure if the legs would hold up. I walked for the first 2 minutes to warm up, then ran at 10 km/hour up until the 20 minute mark. After 20 minutes my right calf, the one which I most recently injured, was fine, but the left one was aching, so I went back to walking for 2 minutes. I thought that I might have neglected it since most of my recent rehab work was on the right side, and I didn’t want it to pain suddenly, hence the middle walking phase.

After that, I went back to jogging, at 9 km/hour. The left calf was still aching, but I figured ‘well it’s either going to stay aching or I can’t run on it, so I might as well test it out since I’ve only 5 days to go til the race…’

Finally, I finished the 8K. The aching had not got any worse. I walked for 2 minutes to warm down, stretched the legs out, went home and even iced the calf, such was my dedication.

Yesterday I did some more exercises on the troublesome right side that caused the biomedical fault I mentioned in Part 1 of this series. Today I plan to execute the third phase of the 7 days to 10K plan, which is a 10K street run. If I can get through that, I know I should be OK for the big day. I’ll report back on the morning of the race and let you know how my final stage of preparation goes. I know you can’t wait…

In Part 1 of 7 Days to 10K I outlined why I’ve prepared awfully for a 10K race I have registered for and which is but a few days away.

2 days ago I executed – successfully – the first phase of my simple plan to be as ready as I can be for the race. I played a fairly taxing game of 5-a-side soccer for over an hour. I played rather well, for me, and emerged unscathed. This was great for me, as it was my first proper lung-stretching exercise in a while.

Later today I will execute the second phase, which is to run 8K on the treadmill, and see how I get on. This is the phase I’m most nervous about, since it’s my first sustained run over 15-20 minutes since I last tore my calf.

When I mentioned the race to a soccer pal, he said ‘oh, I registered for that a couple of years ago and just turned up and ran the race, it’s not too bad.’ A perfectly legitimate response, were it not for the fact that I have been doing some exercises to cure a biomechanical fault which is causing my calves to tear and pain after a quarter of an hour’s exercise.

One of the odd things I’ve noticed in the mirrors over the last 30 years of running at the gym is that any shirt I’m wearing pulls down at the next towards the right shoulder, and never the left. I could never figure out why, until the physio mentioned the fault with my running in my previous post that cause my right side to dip, and then it all made sense.

In 2 days time, as per my plan, I’ll let you know how the 8K run went and what bearing, if any, this has on my ‘practice’ 10K run on the streets of my home town, scheduled for later in the day.

I’ve signed up for a 10K run. It’s in 7 days’ time. It’s my first 10K. I have run further before, but it was when I was training for the Dublin marathon, in 2000. I got injured 3 weeks before, having done all the training, and had to miss it.

My wife does 10K 3 times a week and will be doing this one too. It’s a regular event for her; she breezes through them. SHe’s a good bit younger than me and rebounded back from a serious ankle injury earlier in the year by doing her rehab religiously. More on that aspect later.

I don’t usually run more than 5K. It’s simply something to get the heart pumping for 25+ minutes so it qualifies for aerobic exercise. I also haven’t run in about 3 months.

Why the appalling preparation, I hear you say? Well, I get injured a lot. Not major injuries, just niggly little calf injuries that put me out for a few weeks at a time.

I went to a new – new to me – sports physio about 2 months ago, complaining about the fact that when one of my calves breaks down, it’s about 15 minutes into a run, when I’m nicely warm. He had me run on the treadmill for a couple minutes and diagnosed a bio-mechanical fault which was causing my right leg to move out slightly, rather than forward, during the lifting-striding phase. This was causing my right side to dip slightly, which, he felt, was creating the imbalance that cause either calf to break down and start paining me.

He gave me a raft of exercises to do 5 times a week, that would have taken me an hour or more to do, if had ever done them all. I didn’t do them at all for the first 2 weeks, as I was travelling. Since those 2 weeks I’ve done a fraction of the exercises he gave me, maybe twice a week. I haven’t been able to make the time. You know the drill, or if you don’t you can read here.

So, here I am, with 7 days to go til my 10K. Here’s my plan. I realise that 10K isn’t very far and many of you reading this will wonder what all the fuss – and all the planning – is about. After all, it’s less than half an hour’s exercise for proper athletes, and less than an hour for many average runners. It’s hardly the Ironman. Well, for me, it is what it is.

This evening, day 1, I’m going to play a game of 5-a-side soccer with the lads. It’s my favourite exercise. I like to start in goal and then I’ll be running around for 45 minutes or so. It’s a useful test of fitness and of how my calves are feeling. In two days time, I’m going to go to the gym, on the advice of my good lady, and try to run about 8K on the treadmill. Apparently it’s more forgiving than the road.

If that goes OK, then in 4 days time I’m going to run a 10K on the road. If that goes OK, I’m going to take the next 2 days off before the big day, 1 week from now, in 7 days’ time.

There’s a lot of if’s in the plan, and no plan every goes perfectly, so doubtless you’ll be reading about adjustments, avoidance or even abandonment.

I’ll let you know how I get on. I have to. After all, you can’t have Part 1 of a total of 1 Part, can you?

There are old pilots, and there are bold pilots. But there are no old, bold pilots.

So goes the saying. It’s about risk, isn’t it? The idea that if you take risks, eventually your 9 lives are going to run out and you’re going to fail. If this is in a mission critical line of work, then that failure could be final.

In business, though, you can make the argument that if you’re not failing, you’re not moving quickly enough. Business – especially innovative, disruptive business, is about seeing the opportunity, moving quickly, executing and getting the timing right. You don’t have the luxury of endless iterations while you try and improve to the stage of ‘perfect’. Perfect doesn’t exist.

To have tried and failed not only makes you a better person, it makes you richer for the experience.

Take risks. Fail early, fail often. Then, when you do succeed, you’ll have succeeded quickly, before everyone else, and you have the right window to keep improving while you make hay.

That’s the the promised land for bold pilots, old and young, I think.

I’ll keep this post uncharacteristically short. I’m going to put it out there. It applies for work and play.

No meeting, session, presentation and so on should be longer than an hour. Anything more is too much, unfair to the audience, not a good use of anyone’s time. It’s a productivity and attention thing.

Do we really need longer than an hour? If we do, we should split it up into sessions, with breaks. Look at the educational system, which should be focused on learning, absorbing, retaining and using information. Classes are less than an hour, and double classes should have a complete break.

The exception to this is if you, the customer, the audience member, have paid for the privilege. A film, a show, or an evening with someone. Other than that, it should be an hour, max. It’s all you should need.

A while ago I talked about umbrella wars in London. Lots of jousting and potential for losing an eye in the daily commute.

Interestingly, though, you only see the wars when pedestrian traffic is moving in more than one direction. The other day I was walking from London Bridge train station into the City at rush hour in the rain. Massive swathes of people all heading into work. All heading the same direction.

We crossed north over London Bridge, about 8-abreast. You can’t actually move in the opposing direction, unless you want to jostle with the buses and taxis on the road. The rest of us are in a moving umbrella gridlock, sucked along at one universal speed. You can’t overtake anyone, you can’t slow down. You can only exit from the edge of the river of people. Diagonal or sideways moves, fuggedaboudit.

Everyone moves as one, a huge, multi-umbrellaed beast, a giant tank of black plastic pointiness. It’s a bit of an odd feeling actually, especially if you like to plough your own furrow, metaphorically. When you can’t do it physically, it seems to impinge the metaphorical side. Moving umbrella gridlock.

 

We’re forever trying to make sense of the business and leisure world we live in. It helps us clear problems and make the most of situations. It’s in our nature to do it.

Sometimes, though, it simply makes sense to realise that ‘it just is’ and move on. I’m not a big fan of the word ‘just‘, but what I really mean is that I don’t like certain applications of the word ‘just‘.

What we’re sometimes guilty of is drawing a conclusion on something that has happened, finding common threads with other events and inferring a pattern for the future. This is really dangerous, since looking back is so different from looking ahead in so many ways.

In these current times of political turbulence, people look to previous patterns for answers. Historians and economists are great at telling you what has happened, but they have no more clue than the rest of us about what will happen. They’re simply placing bets. Some come off, some don’t, so that’s not really that great a science.

Here’s an article that attempts to explain the ostensible recent lurch to the right with Brexit and the US election. It makes for compelling reading, but it’s still a bet that may or may not come off. For every instance where it has, there are several where it hasn’t.

Wars, referenda, elections, other macro shifts: stuff happens. It is what it is. It just is.

Ah Ohio. A heart-shaped state in the middle of the US that you probably don’t know too much about. On eastern time but still a lot of driving hours (probably 18 or so; never done it) west of New York City.

I spent two-and-half years living in Cincinnati, which is nestled in the so-called tri-state area of south-west Ohio, south-east Indiana and north-west Kentucky. Strangely enough, I never visited the state capital Columbus, or the northern metropolis of Cleveland, which was probably a mistake, and certainly an oversight.

I had a great time there. The mid-west is pretty different to the East Coast and West Coast. It’s fairly conservative and traditional in its outlook. It’s often accused of being late to things. There’s a famous quote, attributed to mark Twain and several others, that when the end of the world comes, it’s best to be in Cincinnati as it’s always ten years behind the times.

What’s more interesting is that Ohio is actually a microcosm of the US. The US is not California, New York or Florida. Ohio is a reflection of the whole of the US in terms of demographics, like race, age, religion. It’s also one of the so-called swing states in US Presidential elections.

As you might expect of a national bellwether (no, I thought it was spelled weather too), Ohio has voted for the Presidential winner every year since 1960. As I write this post, Hilary Clinton is comfortably ahead in the Presidential polls, nationally speaking.

But not in Ohio…

It’s all too easy, all too often, to feel like we’re on a treadmill, sucked onto the conveyor belt of the myriad bits and pieces we need to do in work and out of work. It’s easy to get frustrated. I know I do.

But then I think about my own personal situation. I’m not one of the infinitesimally small portion that owns half the global assets in the world, not by a long chalk. But I was born into an English-speaking environment, which helps in an increasingly shrinking world.

I was also born in the second half 20th century, in an era of unprecedented technological advancement, in a country with a plentiful supply of food, drink, education and utilities, most of the time.

I live in a first world country in a particularly peaceful and settled corner of the planet, especially when you look at other less fortunate areas.

I have a job, with an income, and a roof over my family’s head that I can afford to maintain and stock every month. I can’t afford to do many of the things I want to do with my home, but then that’s like painting the Forth Bridge.

So does that put me in the top 20% of the top 20% of the top 20% of the world’s 7 billion inhabitants? Possibly. That’s a lot to be thankful and happy for.

I’m fortunate, and should be content. A lot of us are pretty fortunate, especially if we have the time and access to write or read this post.

It’s all relative, really.

My good lady’s father has a saying: never leave a room empty-handed. There’s always something you could be putting back, tidying up, or passing to someone.

It makes sense. It feeds directly into our personal productivity; doing a little often, chipping away at something rather than allowing a huge wedge of a thankless job to weigh us down, becoming bigger by the day, hanging over our heads and making us stressed.

I must confess I’m not good at this. These little pregnant pauses are great moments for doing a few leg exercises to loosen a troublesome calf muscle, or filing a few bills away at a time. Too often I let procrastination of the distasteful become the thief of my time as I kid myself that it’s better if I do one big job.

It’s the same in the electronic world as well of course. Even though we feel we’ve never been busier, with our time seemingly accounted for from the moment we wake til the moment we sleep, there are still little tiny pockets of time that we could be using better. We could be getting rid of emails, deleting old texts or unwanted photos languishing in our phones.

In work and life, idleness is a disease. It’s not the same as relaxation. There’s always something we could be doing.