J is for jogging

ust the thought of becoming like my father is enough to motivate me to do something about it. Not that he's a bad man (I'm sure I've mentioned this before), it's just that he has traits which I don't like. His ability to form and defend viewpoints which are just based on ignorance. His super-short patience. His negativity. In this instance, it was his portly stature that was motivation to me. I don't know how much my dad weighs, but he stands about 5'10", and he has a belly on him. I reckon 14, 15 stone. I shudder to think what his waist measurement is -- 38"? 40"?

So, the desire for my stomach not to double in size by the time I'm forty has pushed me into jogging, for fitness, weight-loss and peace of mind. Around here, the jogging community is huge. I was amazed, the first time I walked around my neighbourhood, how many people were running at all times of the day and night. So it was relatively easy to pick up a pair of trainers and join them. There's a park a block away from here which is a haven for runners, and the paths are well-trodden. I decided, one Sunday, to just do it.

I should explain that there was some scepticism here. I used to play sport, hockey in particular, but had to stop due to crippling shin splints. I couldn't last a half, let alone a full match. I haven't really played sport competitively since then. The shin splints even started happening when I walked too fast (which I do a lot), and there's nothing you can do about them apart from rest. I found that rushing for that train that I had two minutes to get is likely to end in disappointment because my shin splits left me whimpering by the side of the road in agony. I thought moving on to running was going to be a futile endeavour, but since I didn't really know for sure, and faced with impending doom, I thought I'd give it a shot. The first time I jogged, it was fine. No shin splints. The second, third, fourth times... same thing. Wonderful!

The rest of my legs, however, were absolutely on fire. I probably ran two miles each time, not terribly far, but enough to work up a sweat and burn some calories. The second day my legs would hardly bend. The third was somewhat better, the fourth not so good. But after that things improved. Until the injuries started. Not just aching, but tangible pain. First it was my right calf stiffening up, making it painful to run. When that eased up after a few days, my right knee started hurting, followed by my left calf and then my right Achilles started getting tight. The final nail in the coffin was my left knee, just under the patella. It hurt quite a lot to run on it, so I rested it for two weeks. And then I ran on it again, and got pain after a mile or so. It was (and is) painful to touch. I found that icing it did a lot of good, and so had another couple of days off and ran again. Ouch. So I guess my body is telling me that running is no good.

Sadly, I really got to enjoy it. It's quite liberating getting up early in the morning and running into the rising Sun. You get into a rhythm, a kind of gait that makes you feel like you can run anywhere. And of course, there are the endorphins... ah, sweet endorphins. Running a couple of miles, coming home to have breakfast and a hot shower... it really sets you up for the day, it's energising. I'm going to miss my brief flirtation with it. I think my last hope is going to be a knee support; if that strengthens my knee and means I can run, great. If it doesn't, hello 40" waist jeans.