“The master has failed more times than the beginner has even tried.”
Stephen McCranie, artist and author
Currently, I am making a second attempt at something I have previously failed at. The process is challenging for multiple reasons, but most especially the fear that I may fail again. Failing is disheartening and painful, and this particular failure was painful in a very literal sense last time I tried.
As regular readers will know, I am a recent convert to fitness-related activity. What readers may not know is that my first foray into this world took place several years ago, when I decided to make an attempt to complete the NHS Couch to 5K programme, a running app that aims to take non-runners from zero to 5 kilometres in just 9 weeks. The programme has its detractors and I will say from the outset that I believe that it is way too intensive: I would not recommend attempting to complete the process in 9 weeks. But the principle of the app is good, as it consists of a course of activity in which running is broken up into very short bursts of ever-increasing length. There are other criticisms of the programme, which I will touch upon as I explain why I have decided to try it again.
When I first attempted the programme, I had done no reading whatsoever about the importance of strength and balance training (or rather I had managed to filter out any advice in this area and banish it from my consciousness). I was ignorantly convinced that I was as fit as any normal person should expect to be and that running was therefore well within my grasp. I thought that all I had to do was to build up my cardio-vascular endurance by actually doing the running. So, I bought myself some running shoes and a strap for my phone and off I went. It may be pertinent to point out at this juncture that a second major criticism fitness experts and physiotherapists have of the Couch to 5K programme is that it gives no advice on strength training prior to and during the process.
During the very first run, I was getting painful twinges in my spine. Serious ones. I suffer from scoliosis (curvature of the spine) and my back was giving me some very clear warning signals that all was not well. Convinced of my fitness, I loftily ignored them. Twinges are normal, I told myself, I just need to get used to the process. Well, by the end of the third run I found myself screaming in agony. Genuinely. I have never experienced pain like it (admittedly, I have not experienced childbirth!) I was alone in the house on my return and quite seriously considered calling for help. The pain was severe enough to make me afraid that something was terribly, dreadfully wrong. Eventually, it subsided and I was left with the rather bleak realisation that my body had let me down. I was devastated, perhaps more so than I have ever shared with anyone, including my husband. While there are a thousand things that my scoliosis has theoretically prevented me from doing, none of these things were something that I wanted to do. I don’t want to be a ballerina, a gymnast or indeed a performance artist of any kind. This failed attempt at running was the first time I had embarked upon and failed at something that I wanted to achieve and had assumed myself to be capable of. I dealt with it pretty badly. Friends and osteopaths had multiple suggestions for activities that would bring similar health benefits to running without the high impact, but none of it cheered me. I wanted to run and I had believed that I would be capable of it. I engaged Sulk Mode.
After a few weeks, I got over myself. Running was not for me and that was fine. The only trouble was, when I started researching into why I might have struggled so much, I drew a blank. Nothing I could find gave any indication that scoliosis should be a complete barrier to running, indeed there appeared to be a considerable amount of evidence to the contrary. What was I to think? It was puzzling. One thing that’s true is that the definition of scoliosis is pretty broad and generic and it is quite difficult to zero in on research that relates to what might be going on for a particular individual. So, I ended up concluding that, for whatever reason, my particular spine configuration simply didn’t tolerate the high impact of running and that was that. Plenty of health experts acknowledge that running is not for everyone and I accepted that I was one of those people, albeit reluctantly.
This summer, for reasons I am still unsure of, I had a bit of an epiphany. It suddenly occurred to me that the last time I had tried running was prior to all of my other efforts to improve my fitness. Before I started the work that is necessary to build muscle and improve balance, I was genuinely useless. Weak as a kitten. My core was hopelessly feeble, hence why I strained my back on a regular basis: since working on the muscles in my core, I have not had any back strains, I suddenly reminded myself. Similarly and equally relevant, I have swapped legs that were as wobbly and useless as pair of pipe cleaners for some genuinely respectable trunks of muscle. They are visibly, tangibly different, indeed I feel like I’ve got somebody else’s legs! While I have always been able to walk long distances, I can now do so without feeling like I have done so. In previous years, a 10-mile walk was certainly possible for me, but I would have felt it the next day: now, it just feels like I’ve been for a stroll around the shops. So, it suddenly occured to me, is it actually possible that the problem with running was not the shape of my spine but the simple fact that the muscles in my core and my legs weren’t up to the job? It seemed plausible. And once I’d thought of it, I couldn’t let it drop.
I gave myself some thinking time and pondered the situation. Then I made myself a deal. I would try it again on one condition: the first twinge, the very first whiff of a warning sign from my vertebrae and I would stop. Any nascent pains in my back must be accepted as a chequered flag. Last time, I ignored them and I paid for it. I must not let that happen again because nothing is worth the pain I experienced as a result of that negligence. So, armed with my new promise to myself and my new and improved musculature, I started again. I am now past the point when the agony set in last time and the only thing even relating to a twinge I have experienced is what our friends across the Atlantic hilariously call “runner’s butt”, but which is technically known as gluteus medius syndrome. Basically, it’s a mild ache in one butt-cheek after running (not during). Interestingly, this is the one and only issue I have read about which is recognised as a potential problem that can arise from running with scoliosis: it can arise for all sorts of other reasons too, but scoliosis is undeniably on the list. I shall monitor it and see how it goes, but my glutes are very strong, and so far stretching them out is managing the problem. If it fails to do so in the future, I may have to stop. So be it.
All in all, I am currently enjoying the challenge and it feels really emancipating to try again at something, in the full knowledge and acceptance that I may fail. My current plan is to repeat every single week of the programme, thus doubling the length of time that it takes to complete. This is recommended by some physiotherapists, who have seen way too much fall-out from people who have attempted to complete the programme in the ridicuously short allotted time of 9 weeks. If that turns out to be too quick, I will slow down even more. I will continue to listen to my body and I will obey its commands: the consequences of not doing so are not to be sniffed at. But, for whatever reason, I am simply not willing to accept the fact that running is not for me without a fight. I’ll keep you posted.
