Tag: Fitness

The Pacemaker Diaries – summer’s been a bummer.

A bit of a cathartic post, this one. I’m aware that I’ve written a lot about my heart surgery last year and I’m aware of the fact that it might just be getting boring. It’s getting that way for me too. But despite my many quiet vows to not let the pacemaker define me, it’s kind of a tough one that! So this post is sort of cathartic because it allows me to vent my frustrations as well as publicly celebrate my successes, however minor they might have been.

So, my recovery continues. I’m still very aware of my pacemaker; you can literally see it when I take my top off (steady ladies), there’s a scar that looks red raw when I’ve done any exercise and more than anything else, I can just feel it sitting there in my chest. It doesn’t hurt or anything like that, but it does get sore after exercise or if I’ve had to take on any lifting.

Thankfully though, I’m now running regularly. I manage to get out twice a week and have been pretty much exclusively running 10ks recently in preparation for an upcoming race. That race is the Morley 10k, which I ran in October of last year before collapsing a few weeks later and then finding myself in hospital a few weeks after that. So all the omens are good! At the time of running it, I felt good and strong and despite the fairly undulating course and the fact that I was actually very poorly, managed a time of 54 minutes! I don’t think I’ll get anywhere near that this time around!

That said, for a recent hilly 10k that I ran around town, I clocked a time of under 57 minutes, so I’m not actually too far short of pushing for a similar sort of time as last year. Maybe, with a decent tail wind for the last couple of miles, I can achieve something worth shouting about. It would certainly help me get past the whole ‘woe is me and my pacemaker ‘ thing!

My body continues to frustrate me though. As far as I’m concerned, I’m out of shape and carrying a bit of a belly, although my wife tells me I’m being ridiculous. When I’m feeling more rational I can put the aches, the pains and the belly down to middle age, but I still feel unhappy with it and I’m fairly sure that had I not had the health issue that I’ve had, I would be in a lot better shape physically. Four months off work with nowhere near enough exercise and far too much snacking has clearly taken its toll and I’m struggling to get back into shape.

I found summer really tough and for long periods felt as low as I can remember ever feeling. As is my habit, I tried to hide it from everyone and seemed to be getting away with just being labelled occasionally grumpy, but if I’m honest, I just couldn’t cope with it. Running kept me sane and when I was out on those early mornings I hardly had a care in the world. But at home, on holiday, visiting family, I just felt awful. It wasn’t anyone else’s fault. I felt impatient with those around me and angry at what’s gone on since last year with my health. In terms of recovery, being so frustrated and angry really doesn’t make things easy and I’ve genuinely felt like I couldn’t move on.

The peak of it came when I just felt I had to talk to someone. Not like me at all, but I knew I had to try. I tried repeatedly, but something always got in the way and then one afternoon while she was at work and I was at home, my wife called me about something and I just confessed to how incredibly sad I felt. She’s been brilliant!

Talking a lot has certainly lightened the load, but I’m still considering counselling or just joining some kind of support group. I did this when I first got my pacemaker as I really struggled with what felt like the injustice and the worry of it all and it did me the world of good to hear from other people in the same situation and just to share a few things.

Part of the reason for the summer being such a tough time was that I stepped down from coaching my junior football team. The club wanted me to get rid of 4 players in order to make space for others that they were dropping down to us from our A team and I just wasn’t going to do it. I hoped they’d see reason, but when they didn’t I walked away on principle. I’d always tried to be a totally inclusive coach and when the club decided to release players based on ability, that was enough for me. They tried to dress it up as something else, citing players commitment as a reason, but it simply wasn’t anything to do with it.

I’d coached the team for 7 years and loved it. It had always helped me with my physical fitness and mental health too and so to lose it hit me hard. I managed to get a couple of the players that were dropped fixed up with a new club, but the fact that I could no longer coach kids I’d coached for years and years – including my own son – knocked me for six and just deepened the sadness I was already feeling.

The issue dragged on a bit because parents were actually on my side and so there’s been a lot of complaints flying around. However, the club have actually emailed one of the parents of a lad who was dropped and told some rather creative lies about me while being incredibly loose with the truth about what actually happened. I could have got very angry, but I’ve just decided to leave it. If it makes people feel better about themselves to tell blatant lies, I haven’t really got the time for that in my life. Not at the moment. Talk about kicking a man when he’s down!

I still go to watch the team, as my lad still plays and most of the squad are still ‘my’ players, but I just won’t have anything to do with the people at the club now. One or two in particular should be thoroughly ashamed of themselves, but I guess that some people are just never in the wrong! Karma can be a bitch though, so we’ll wait and see!

For now, I’m just trying to be as positive about life and recovery as I can. I’ve thrown myself into work and whether I’m happy or not, I’m trying to be as positive as is possible. So, I’ve dug out my Disney teacher voice for the new year 7s so my natural grumpiness doesn’t scare them and I’m putting positive comments on our ClassCharts whenever I think someone’s done something good. I’m trying to make sure that I explicitly praise as many students as possible whenever they’ve gone beyond the ordinary and I’ve not sent one email about how pointless a meeting is yet! I’ve even been early for a few of them as well. Inner me’s not particularly fooled, but the positivity is genuinely helping. It probably sounds stupid, but while I’m being positive, I’m not being negative and not feeling sorry for myself. Does that make sense?

So life, as ever, is full of ups and downs. And while there are a few too many downs for my liking at the moment, I’m hoping to work my way out of the way I feel before the end of the year. In November I’ll have had a pacemaker for a whole year and if I’m honest, it is a comfort. As far as I can tell, the old issues with my heart are fixed. Now, however difficult I find it at times, it’s just time to get on with life again in the best way that I can.

The Pacemaker Diaries: Summer Edition!

It’s been a while since my last Pacemaker Diary entry, so with a bit of time to kill and a few tings to update, I thought I’d write another.

In my last entry, in April, I wrote about hitting a bit of a bump in the road. I’d had to abandon a run, was suffering with dizziness and a general feeling of tiredeness and just generally wasn’t really coping with the whole ‘adjusting to having a pacemaker’ thing. I’d been back at work for around a month and was beginning to feel like I might not make it through to summer.

https://middleagefanclub.wordpress.com/2023/04/09/the-pacemaker-diaries-weve-definitely-hit-a-bump-in-the-road/

Well, it’s now summer. Two weeks into the holidays to be precise and while I’m nowhere near as fit and healthy as I had been pre-pacemaker, I’m still slowly getting there. Obviously, this is incredibly frustrating. You might argue that I should have gotten used to how my body feels and reacts to things by now. After all, I had my pacemaker fitted about 9 months ago. But, dear reader, I’m not used to it and that’s all there is to it. Or rather, I am used to it but I still absolutely hate the whole idea of it! It’s wonderful to still be here and I’m eternally grateful to the NHS and the staff at the hospital that helped me through and indeed the ones that still help when I have some kind of appointment, but I can’t change how I feel.

The phrases “I’m getting there” and “It’s just going to take time” have become as much a comfort as they have a pain in the arse, but I have to just keep reminding myself – and sometimes others, who don’t seem to get it – that I am indeed getting there and that this whole process of feeling myself and feeling fit again is jus going to take time! Friends who’ve gone through the same or similar have told me on numerous occasions that they didn’t feel themselves again for a long, long time and I suppose I’m simply finding out about how true that is!

Anyway, enough of the moaning and moping. There are some positives to discuss!

For one, I’m still running. It’s been a while since I had to be mature and force myself to take a break and as a result my fitness is consistently okay. It’s not great, but it’s okay…didn’t Whitney Houston once sing about that or something similar? Perhaps, that’s not a good thing…

I’ve been uncharacteristically sensible about my running for the past 4 or 5 weeks and have built up my distances really steadily. So, perhaps I’m tempering my frustration and anger a little bit after all.

Having completed the Leeds 10k in late June I took a break and haven’t ran that distance since. Instead, when I got back out I settled for running just 5ks for a couple of weeks and then built the distance up from there. I still haven’t managed another 10k run, but I think I will do soon as I’m consistently running over 5 miles. There have been varying results pace-wise, but I’m feeling more than capable of getting round the distance. It’s still reeeaaallly frustrating to see how slow I’ve ran at times, but I just have to cope!

I ran while on holiday recently, taking on some huge hills in North Wales, while receiving curious looks from llamas on a local farm! I ran for 5 miles, finishing on the beach and felt fantastic afterwards, but I made sure that I gave myself lots of recovery time and didn’t go for a second run that week which was a relief and a bit frustrating in equal measure! However, the change of scenery and obvious challenge felt like it did me the world of good.

After every run I’m on to planning my next one and genuinely feeling like I can go further. I was out earlier this week and managed 5.3 miles and I’ll be out again this weekend. I’m hoping that this one can be my first 10k since June, but we’ll see how the body reacts over the next couple of days.

I managed to damage my lower back around a month ago and then just when I felt it was almost better, injured it again. The first time was while leaning out of my chair at work to pick up something I’d dropped and then the second time was while getting something out of a cupboard in the kitchen! Both dangerous and high stakes activities, I’m sure you’ll agree but as frustrating as this is I guess it just comes down to having a battered, middle aged body, so I’ll have to cope!

As part of getting my back better I’ve started doing yoga again. It was something me and my wife did years ago and both felt we benefitted hugely from it. But time constraints and a young family got in the way and it fell by the wayside. However, my wife recently suggested a few moves that might help my back and so yoga is back on the agenda. I’ve only managed a couple of very short sessions with the aid of my phone to keep me right on the positions, but I’m hoping it will start to help with my health. It’s a bit more complicated as anything that means putting weight or pressure on my left hand side results in my pacemaker digging into me, but I’d take that over palpitations and blackouts any time!

I’m also hoping that yoga will help with my mental health. I’ve had lots of support in recovering from surgery and adapting to this new almost constantly fatigued, old body. However, it’s still been incredibly tough and I’ve felt isolated and sad throughout. The running has helped as I’m alone with my thoughts and can resolve a lot of stuff while I’m out. But I’m hoping that yoga – however bitesized it might be – will help me feel a lot calmer and relaxed about things.

So, there we have it. I have my next 10k race planned for October and am wondering about entering another before that. Either way though, I’m just hopeful that I can stay fit and healthy for long enough to feel that I can go back to work again in September feeling a bit brighter about things and then have a real go at the October 10k. As ever though, it’s just nice to still be here, however difficult things might seem and however low I might get at times!

Turning Points: The Road to Recovery

Today, my body hurts almost more than ever. There’s a dull ache almost everywhere, except for my pacemaker scarring and the area around it. That’s really very sore and it feels like almost every movement on my left side makes me wince.

It’s all OK though, because that dull ache, the fatigue I feel and the way my brain seems to be telling my eyes to just close is just the result of another turning point in my recovery. I’ll explain later on why I feel so rough.

It’s been just over 7 months since my surgery and while there have been setbacks that have brought me crashing back down to Earth, there have been some notable turning points that have told me that everything is going in the right direction. A lot of negatives, but enough positives to keep me going.

The first one was actually getting out of hospital. Whatever the reason for being in hospital, I think you automatically feel a little bit better when you’re back at home. The familiarity of it all, the good will and love of family and friends will give you a certain air of contentment, however your body feels.

It took me a couple of days before I felt strong enough to go out for a walk and we only went a very short way, but the sense of achievement was more than enough to make it feel like a big turning point. I wasn’t just lying in bed, feeling sorry for myself; I was trying to recover, trying to get stronger and fitter and I knew that this was exactly what I had to do for every day that I was at home and away from work. From day one I was determined to get well.

My next turning point was accepting that what had happened – having to have a pacemaker fitted – was quite a big deal. However, despite the fact that I was struggling to feel remotely alive, I was sure that the operation was just routine and that it was more my age that was holding me back. A few people had to sit me down and have a bit of a word before I was able to take in exactly how serious things had been. Coming to terms with it all has been a huge factor in beginning to feel anywhere near my old self again.

Heading back to work after 4 months off was part of this. All of my friends and colleagues were very kind, checking up on me, letting me know that I’d been missed and that it was great to see me back. I didn’t believe any of them when they told me that I looked well, but that’s another story! However, getting back into the routine of work and seeing that I could still do everything that was necessary to be a high school teacher was a definite turning point and something that helped pick my confidence up from the basement level where it had been previously residing for 4 months!

The first major turning point in recovery was visiting friends in Toronto in April. I can’t pinpoint exactly why, but suddenly I felt a lot better about everything. It was of course wonderful to see our friends – Andy and Kim and their kids, Hannah Mae and Benji – but still I can’t say exactly what made me feel so much better. Perhaps it was simply seeing such brilliant people again? Perhaps, the knowledge that I was capable of heading to the other side of the world and being on the go all day, every day? Or perhaps it was just the freedom of it all and the fact that I enjoyed everything so much? After all, they say that laughter is good for the soul, don’t they? Whatever it was, my body felt lighter when I returned and my mood had very definitely changed.

Top 10 Toronto: Some highlights of our trip.

Running again has definitely helped me turn a corner. I ran a 10k race in May – my first in almost 8 months – and it proved to me that my body was capable of more than I’d dared to imagine. Even going out on short runs had been a boost. However, the biggest turning point so far came on Sunday just gone and it’s the aforementioned reason why my body aches so much this week.

On Sunday 18th June, I ran the Leeds 10k and proved a lot of things to myself. It told me that my body is inching towards being better, fitter and stronger, although I’m already aware that it’s going to be possibly another 6 months before I reach the kind of condition that I’d been in before my surgery.

I won’t bore you with the minutiae of the race, but I can tell you that it felt like I did well. ‘Well’ that is, in the context of being a 51-year-old man just over 7 months out from heart surgery! This was only my second 10k run since October last year, but my best time since then too. Strava keeps reminding me that I was averaging around 52 minutes for the distance last year, but my one previous effort this year had been completed in a fraction under an hour. So, to achieve a time of 56.54 on Sunday felt like winning the lottery.

For weeks I’ve felt down about the times I’ve been posting when out on runs. I’ve had numerous setbacks and had to rest for weeks too, which has made me feel really low. So completing the course in 56 minutes felt good! A friend has repeatedly told me that times don’t matter, but being as stubborn as I am, I just haven’t been able to ignore that clock!

There was also the fact of how my body felt on the run itself. Apart from one short lived, but very tired spell in the final kilometre, I felt very good (again, in the context outlined earlier!). I felt light and strong, which I’ve not felt all year. Runs have felt like I’m heavy and plodding, dragging myself around my routes. It’s felt like no fun at all and and yet on Sunday it was an absolute joy to be out on the roads and not feel the energy drain from my body at any point. I kept telling myself to relax, reminding myself when to lengthen my stride and when to shorten it for uphill stretches. Most of all though, I kept reminding myself to just keep going! I hadn’t managed a full 10k in training and so that made me slightly nervous, although I knew deep down that I wouldn’t stop until I crossed that line! But for almost the whole 10k, I felt completely in control.

Without doubt, this was a massive turning point in my recovery so far. Without sounding too dramatic, but while also trying to simply tell the truth, it was one of only a handful of times in the last 7 months when it’s felt truly wonderful to be alive. The payback has been how badly my body has taken it! My efforts have really worn me out and for the first couple of days afterwards, it was tough just to get through the day. However, I’m confident that will pass. Anyone’s body needs to recover after being pushed to its limits and I know only too well that my body is no different.

It’s been a good last few days and a nice reminder that I am getting better. Now, the hope is just that I can keep on moving forward and not be forced to take too many backward steps any more. My next 10k race is in October and I genuinely can’t wait!

Recovery Goals: My First 10k Race!

As lots of you know, I suffered a bit of a health setback in November of last year when I was admitted to hospital and had to have a pacemaker fitted. It was a shock, but not in terms of feeling unwell. The truth was that I’d been struggling with heart ‘episodes’ since around May last year. I just made a really stupid choice in trying to manage it and hide it from everyone. My distinct lack of medical training allowed me to have faith in the fact that it would probably just go away.

Despite all of this, I’d kept on going out running, striving to build fitness while all along fully aware of the palpitations and dizzy spells I suffering on an every more regular basis. I never felt bad when running though, so I kept going.

On Sunday 15th May last year, I ran the Pontefract 10k in West Yorkshire, finishing in just over 51 minutes. I felt great.

By May 28th I was a complete mess and was forced to reveal a little bit of what was going on to my family when I had my worst episode of the year. The palpitations got so bad that my whole body was shaking. This lasted for around 6 hours and for almost all of this I managed to hide what was happening. I was forced to confess as we were due to go out to a gig and I was worried I may well collapse. Miraculously, I didn’t end up in hospital as, with a bag packed, I suffered a dizzy spell that shook me from the feet up and levelled my heart rate back out. I was exhausted, but fine, so no need for a doctor. It couldn’t and didn’t last though.

In October I collapsed in Manchester Airport as we were heading off for a break. Again, fate intervened as the ambulance was unavailable, so we went on holiday, took things easy and vowed to visit the doctor when home. But my ‘luck’ was about to run out. It was while waiting for an appointment at hospital that I ended up being admitted to a ward anyway, a month later. The rest, as they say, is history.

To cut a long story short, I set myself some goals in hospital. One of them was to get fit and run the Pontefract 10k in May of 2023. Despite several setbacks along the way, I achieved my goal a couple of weekends ago. Here’s how it went.

Having only been able to manage three full weeks of training, I was beyond nervous on the morning of the run. I hadn’t actually ran a full 10k since the previous October and knew that once I got to 5.5 miles (8.85km) I was in unknown territory as far as my heart – and actually more importantly, my legs – were concerned. With a minute to go, standing on the start line, I felt a little bit sick and more tired than I’d hoped for. My previous training run had gone well and I’d felt stronger than I did now. Talk about bad timing! Surely all I had to do was start running and keep going though?

The Pontefract 10k course is affectionately described as ‘undulating’. In truth, it’s tough and hills seem to dominate. So, even though I knew what was coming as I took the first turn out of the park that it starts in, I allowed myself a wry smile as my heart sunk (metaphorically, don’t panic) at the sight of the first long climb. If I’m right, it’s about a kilometre long and really a lot steeper than you’d like as you set off on a 10k race.

Around about 5 or 6 minutes later, as I finally crested said hill, my legs felt wobbly to say the least. However, knowing that there was a stretch of flatter running to come calmed me a bit.

The course feels like it takes you up more than it does down, which as it starts and finished in the same place can’t be true. But as each hill appeared, I began to feel doubts seeping in. I covered the first couple of miles in around 18.5 minutes, so although I was going slower than I’d have liked, I was steady. My goal was to run it in under an hour, but I was more hoping that I’d be close to 55 minutes as this had been what my training had indicated I was capable of.

I ran a focused race. Just telling myself to shorten my stride and keep plodding along for hills or lengthen it for flat sections or downhills bits. When heading downhill I was careful not to get too carried away though as the course has a nasty habit of following a lovely downhill section with a punishing climb. I tried not to look at my watch too often in order to check times and distance, but as the race went on and I got more tired, it proved too much and I was making checks on a far too regular basis, which didn’t help me.

Turning at halfway, I was greeted with the usual big hill, which then takes you left and up another one. During these climbs I started to doubt myself a little bit, but was spurred on somewhat by the fact that some people had began to walk. Despite being encouraged to do so by my family, walking was never an option for me, but although the sight of others doing this lifted my spirits a bit, it did nothing for my legs! I’d also started to feel sick by this point too, but I knew there was a water station a mile or two ahead, so just hoped that I could reach that point incident free.

Underpinning every step I took, both in training and the race itself, was the fact that this was a major goal I’d set while lying in a hospital bed feeling very sorry for myself. In short, I was determined that I’d finish, on my feet, running. And I’d finish in under an hour!

The hills just seemed to keep on coming though and despite the fact that I’ve ran the race twice before, I still couldn’t work out when they’d end. Every time I dragged myself up one, it felt like there was another in the distance and I’d lengthen my stride for the flat section before steeling myself for the energy sapping climb to come!

The water station came and went and I grabbed a bottle, being careful just to sip some in order to avoid being sick. Lots of runners take a swig and discard their bottle pretty quickly, but I decided I’d just keep mine until I saw my family near the end. I’d be able to just keep taking regular sips in order to keep going. Those hills didn’t want to stop though!

Every so often on the route, people had come out of their houses to cheer the runners on and the support was invaluable to me this year. It’s naturally quite encouraging and people say the loveliest things as you run past, although not the most accurate. Whoever called out, “looking good” as I ran past in the last few kilometres clearly needed an eye test! I was also struck by one old man’s generosity of both thought and gesture as we approached the last sections of the race. He’d bought a few crates of bottled water and was using his Sunday morning to help people out. It was a lovely gesture and although I was clinging on to my water station bottle and didn’t need any more, it distracted me for a little while and took my thoughts away from how tired I was.

The race ends on the same stretch that it begins with, meaning the uphill start is reversed. I’ve never been happier to be at the top of a hill! I’d checked my watch and knew that the 6 mile mark (almost 10kms) was approaching, so I lengthened my stride once more and ran faster. I knew that my family would be somewhere on the hill, waiting for me, but as yet I couldn’t see them. Knowing they were there really helped though.

About halfway down the hill I spotted them and I knew they’d be able to see me. It spurred me on that little bit more and I picked up speed once again. The last thing I wanted was to worry them and I knew I wouldn’t look too good, so moving faster was my only hope!

Passing them, I knew that the final bend, leading to the last straight was about 30 seconds away. Time seemed to be moving faster than I would have liked though and the clock was getting uncomfortable close to the hour mark.

Two runners passed me at the very start of the final straight. I told myself out loud to let them go – normally I would have kicked on again and tried to catch them. But now, I was exhausted and my only goal was just to get over the finish line.

I was aware that I was moving fairly quickly though. Somehow I’d found the strength to not quite sprint, but to move a great deal quicker than I’d been doing in the last few miles! At this point in the race people are lining the road and everyone cheers the runners on loudly; but not as loudly as my family. My wife, daughter and son had cut across a field to get to the final stretch and I could hear them shouting encouragement as I got close to the finish. The trouble was, I couldn’t see the finish. Normally, there’s a big arch, but this year just a small sign, so for far longer than was comfortable I was unaware of exactly where I was.

By now my competitive streak had kicked in and I checked over both shoulders, sensing that other runners would be finishing strongly too. To my amazement, it seemed like no one was close, so I turned my head around briefly to check. The nearest runner was at least 20 yards behind me. No one else would pass me now. But then I noticed that up ahead, one competitor was walking. It was a club runner that I’d been close to for the last half of the race, but he’d gotten away from me while I was flagging. I sped up – fractionally – feeling that he was sure to hear me and run, but he didn’t and I was able to make up one more place in the finishing order.

Just when I thought it would never come, the finish line was mere yards away. I could see the clock ticking on. 59.50. My watch was reading a minute less, but that would be my time over the start line, not my gun time. Again, I kicked. I could just dip under the hour mark. Using every last bit of energy, I made it, crossing the line in a time of 59.58!

In amongst the feelings of sheer joy, I must admit that I welled up at the end. Having set this as a goal 6 months previously and nearly not made it, it was a little bit overwhelming. But I wasn’t going to cry in front of hundreds of runners and spectators, so I gritted my teeth, covered my face a bit and took some deep breaths. Job done!

By the time my family located me, I’d picked up my medal, grabbed a bottle of water and was waiting in the queue for a t-shirt. As I stood, my legs were rapidly cramping up though. I knew I hadn’t been able to train enough and was fully aware of what the last 10k had taken out of me. I was so tired that I didn’t have the strength left in my legs to stand still and stretch in order to get rid of the cramp! My wife had to hold onto me, so that I could balance and stretch. Later, when I had to go and take a match for my youth football team things would get worse as I kept getting cramp in my feet, but couldn’t balance in the stretch position needed to alleviate the problem!

So 6 months on from my operation and I feel like I’ve finally achieved something tangible. I certainly feel a great deal more like my old self, even if it’s been a long road to get here. I guess there’s nothing else for it than to keep moving forward. So, where and when is the next race that I can enter?

Poetry Blog: ‘Every day, a walk’

I wrote this poem because I’ve become a little bit obsessed with walking. If you don’t know, I had a pacemaker fitted in November and as a result, I’m trying to work my way back to fitness and some kind of normality.

At the time of writing the poem, I was walking every day, like the title suggests. I couldn’t run, because the pacemaker was too uncomfortable and I just wasn’t well enough, so I settled for walking. However, Christmas got in the way of that, so now that my recovery is quieter again and my kids have gone back to school, I walk…every day. I’m building up to running again.

I got so obsessed with walking in the lead up to Christmas that I would get quite grumpy – or more accurately, more grumpy than usual – if I wasn’t able to get out. And I would be out whatever the weather too, because I came to depend on the routine of it all and it was proving a more than adequate substitute for long runs. Furthermore, it gave me time to think about what was going on in my life.

Anyway, it was only a matter of time until I wrote a poem about it. When something takes up such a big space in my life, I tend to write about it. As you’ll see with my next poem, ‘Taking Out The Bins’. Just kidding…

Every day, a walk.

Every day, a walk.
Some days you feel like you're fighting back,
others, like death warmed up.
Almost all, you're glad to be alive.
Whether breathless
or jelly legged,
alone with your thoughts
or in company and chattering away
about anything and everything,
swaddled like a newborn against the biting cold
in your big coat
that she zips up for you, because you cannot,
dazed by the noise or the light,
or the breeze,
bruised but not battered,
tweaked but not torn,
smiling, but not quite as happy as you'd like to be
and always, always tired.
Every day, a walk.

My first walk after surgery came two days after getting home from hospital. Down one street and back up another. I was utterly shattered when I got home.

At that time, I couldn’t dress myself properly, such was the restriction on my movement from the scarring and bruising around the site of my pacemaker. So not only did my wife have to zip up my coat, she had to put my hat on and do my laces too! Then she reversed the process when we got back home. Her reward was to watch me fall asleep on the settee!

I’ve gradually got stronger since then. Some walks feel great, while others are an absolute grind! Today’s, for instance, felt horrendous and I was out of breath and staggering a little having not gone far at all. There are good days and bad days though and hopefully tomorrow’s a bit better!

The final thing on this particular poem is just to mention that it came out of thinking the title out loud. I said it as I walked through the door from a walk one morning and liked it, so I quickly scribbled some ideas down and out of that came a poem! Funny, how inspiration can strike!

As ever, I hope you enjoyed the poem and always appreciate any comments, so feel free to leave one.

New Year’s (quiet) resolutions!

It’s that time of year again. Time to put the last one behind you and start kidding yourself that everything will be a great deal better for the next 365 days simply because one year rolled over into the next one. A new year, a fresh start, time to make some changes and all that.

As it happens, things have been so bad for me lately that the turn of the year is actually just convenient for change in my life. My previously documented health problems mean that things need to change and I’m now just about well enough to start changing them. On top of that, I think I can be more than hopeful that next year will be far better than this one was!

I’m keen not to set myself too many big targets though, hence the quiet resolutions. And I know that there are previous targets and goals that I’ve set and then never really done anything about, so I’ll stick to a manageable number this year. I mean, it’s still very early in the year and healthwise, I already feel shattered, so let’s keep things in perspective!

Here goes…

  1. Stop keeping secrets. An important one, this. It’s not me blatantly telling anyone who reads that they can’t trust me, by the way. However, I kept my heart problems to myself last year, in the hope that they’d go away and that I wouldn’t have to bother anyone. Fat lot of good that did me! Hopefully, there won’t be much to report, but if there’s any action in my chest, I’ll be sure to let someone know. Anything more and I’ll blab to the nearest medical professional. Common sense, I know, but that’s not always been my strong point where health is concerned.
  2. Get fit…again. Heart problems blighted last year for me, culminating with time spent in hospital and the shock of having to have a pacemaker fitted. It’s been a long recuperation and it’s left me feeling decidedly unfit and still pretty poorly. I’m breathless and wobbly on my feet if we walk too far! Just before Christmas though, my cardiologist gave the all clear to start running again, albeit really gradually. I’ll freely admit that this is something that scares the living daylights out of me, but once I find a bit of courage, I’ll be back out there getting fit. Hopefully, come the Spring time, I can start taking part in races again. Baby steps for now though. I’ll keep you posted!
  3. Get healthy and stay that way. I’ve been off work now for around 7 weeks and to be honest, while I know when my latest sick note ends, I’m really not sure when I’ll be well enough to go back to work, although I hope it’s sooner rather than later. And then there’s the matter of getting back to normal life. It’s not just been about being off work. If I run upstairs, I’m out of breath. If my clothes are too tight, I struggle to get them on or off and it hurts to do so. Tying my laces still hurts. If I take one thing too many out of the cupboard, I struggle with the weight on my left hand side. I can’t think fast and I struggle to get my words out quite frequently; I don’t know why. And I’m genuinely quite scared when I feel any kind of activity in my chest. So it’s not just the physical side of things that need to get better. It’s all too easy to tell people that you’re ‘getting there’ or whatever other platitude I might use when asked how I’m doing, but I’m not coping anywhere near as well as I’d like. So, getting healthy is going to continue to be a big old job!
  4. Finally send some poetry to somewhere other than my blog. I’ve had this ambition for a while now, but although I write poems on a fairly regular basis, I always seem to end up just adding them to my blog. I’ve resolved to enter some poetry competitions before now, as well as looking into sending stuff into literary magazines. I’ve just never found the time or I suppose, the courage to do it. However, I have a few things that I’m working on at the moment and a few finished poems that I’ve done nothing with, so 2023 has to be the year that I break my duck in this area.

And that’s that. Part of me wishes I had a fifth resolution, just because it looks like a better number. But then, if I’m trying to lessen the burden a little bit, adding a fifth would just be counter-productive and I’d be even less inclined to actually do anything about it. Anyway, that top three is going to keep me pretty busy, I reckon!

I’ll keep you posted about how things are going. In the meantime, perhaps you could let me know about your own resolutions in the comments? Maybe someone might yet inspire that fifth one for me!

Fighting fit; an occasional diary.

Last time I wrote one of these diary entry style posts I was getting fitter and stronger as I was able to get out walking every day. Not far, but enough to keep myself ticking over and gaining in fitness. I’d also grown a beard, simply because my circumstances meant that I couldn’t shave and finally, I was having trouble sleeping. So, in short, I was writing a diary entry about how mind-numbingly boring life was in recovering from an operation!

Well, I’m not sure it’s got anymore exciting.

A couple of weeks ago I had a little bit of a set back, albeit in terms of the rough plan I had in my head. With only a week to go of my sick note from work I rang them and tentatively agreed that I’d be back teaching at the start of January. It was more my call than theirs, to be fair. Sadly though, only a few days later, having spoken to my doctor, I was forced to call them back and let them know that I’d had to arrange another month long sick note. I had a really rough weekend, feeling tired all of the time, sick and still in quite a bit of pain from my scarring. It simply dawned on me that I was rushing things far too much. I spoke to some friends, family and people who’d had similar procedures and they reminded me of just how much I’d been through and that it wasn’t just a case of getting fit enough to go out for a walk that would get me back to normal life. My doctor agreed and was more than happy to renew my sick note and so, I bowed to the greater knowledge before me and made probably the best decision I’d made in years. I’m not very good at just resting, but I’ve realised that I need to stop rushing things too. I’m discovering that patience is key in this recovery business!

Since then, there’s been a real disruption to my safe little routine by way of Christmas and all that comes with preparing for big day. I’ve not been able to do a great deal in terms of decorating the house or going out on shopping trips to get what Santa’s elves can’t make, but I’ve been able to join in with some of the wrapping, despite my very limited wrapping skills. Truth is, I wrap presents like a moody child in a hurry to do anything but wrap presents, but needs must I suppose.

I also managed to fit in two hospital visits, both of which threw my routine out , but more of that later.

All of this has meant that my daily walks have stopped. In fact, before today, my last walk was on 15th December, meaning that some of the fitness that I’d built up has probably been lost.

However, before that I’d been managing to get out for a walk every day and for the last week of doing so we’d had some lovely weather too. For a couple of those days I ventured up to one of our local parks simply because it would mean walking a little bit further than I’d been managing and also as I knew it would look lovely in the sun, as you can see below. Being in the park felt lovely though; a great deal better than just sticking to the streets close to where I live. So, even though I was really tired out just getting there, it was well worth it…even if when I walked there for the second day in succession my legs felt like jelly and I had to have a sit down on a park bench for a short while just to make sure that I’d get home in one piece!

The plan now that Christmas is out of the way though, is to start getting back out there and making the most of the fresh air. I found some new sculptures of animals (pictured below) on one of my park visits and am assured that there are more, so I’m definitely going to head up and explore again, all in the name of fitness!

The final major thing that’s happened over the last few weeks is the hospital visits. My first was a pacemaker clinic just over a week before Christmas. It only took around 30 minutes, but in that time the specialist was able to let me know that there had been no drama since I’d left hospital. She adjusted my pacemaker a little bit in order to help with my breathlessness and told me a little bit about its battery life and function and I left feeling pretty good about it all. It’s fascinating stuff when you see that they just drape a wand-like piece of machinery over your shoulder which then reads the data off your pacemaker. The kind of technology that makes me feel even older!

Then, almost a week later and a few days before Christmas, I went in for an appointment with a cardiologist. It turned out that this was actually to do with a previous problem, but when he saw my notes and learned of my procedure, he was able to talk me through quite a bit about what was going on, which was great.

It was quite the good news day. Firstly, he told me that there was no damage to my heart. Apparently my problem is merely ‘electrical’ in that my pacemaker cells haven’t been controlling the rhythm of my heart very well at all. Hence, the need for my pacemaker. Although I’d been told this in hospital it was still comforting to know as I’d had some of the symptoms of a heart attack on more than one occasion leading up to my time in hospital. But, it seems I’m made of stronger stuff than I’d thought!

The other bit of good news was that I was told to work my way off my beta blockers, which have been fairly responsible for me feeling so rough and tired all of the time. So for now, I have a half a tablet per day, but soon I’ll leave them behind altogether. In turn, this means that I’ll be able to go out running fairly soon, although I’m happy to force myself to wait until I feel as right as possible until I actually do it. If I’ve learnt one thing in all of this it’s that I need to start listening to my body more and to stop being so eager to be on the move all of the time. That said though, I cannot wait to get out and run again. My last run was on October 14th. After that, everything started to go downhill and within a month I was in hospital.

It’s been 50 days since I was admitted to hospital. I went in thinking I’d be back to full fitness within a few days, only to be brought crashing down to Earth by the news of a pacemaker. Fingers crossed that I’m closing in on getting back to normal.

Fighting Fit; an occasional diary.

If you’re a regular reader you’ll no doubt know that it’s been a pretty rough year for me, healthwise, culminating with the fact that I’ve been forced to spend some time off work. I’m pretty sure that the two sick notes that I’ve submitted to work in the last few weeks have been the first I’ve ever had in almost 30 years of working for a living, so it’s all come as a bit of a shock!

If you don’t know – and let’s keep it brief – earlier on in the month, following quite a while of being poorly and stupidly attempting to hide it, I had to have a pacemaker fitted in order to regulate my heartbeat. It’s meant that I’m not really very well, which I’m finding very frustrating. I’m not one to enjoy just sitting about and am pretty desperate to be fit and well again. However, I’ve had to realise that I can’t just be flat out exercising and that there has to be a lot of compromise. In short, at the moment there is actually more sitting about than exercise and a lot of time to fill each day!

I thought it might be nice to diarise what’s happening to me. I imagine it’ll help me think it all through because although it’s actually a fairly routine procedure, it has definitely taken a toll on me. I don’t think keeping it a secret for such a long time has really helped either, as it just enabled me to get progressively more poorly and ultimately more tired! So maybe occasionally writing about it will help me make a bit more sense of what’s happening.

Therefore, today marks the start of exactly what the title says it is; an occasional diary.

So far, there’s not a great deal to tell. I can’t do a lot of exercise because it means that I’m absolutely knackered afterwards! However, I have made a point of trying to get out for some kind of walk almost every day since I got home from hospital. I think I got home on the Thursday and managed to get out for a short walk on the Sunday and I’ve just kept going since then.

It’s definitely making me feel better and stronger. It’s good for mental health too as it means I’m getting fresh air and not just sat watching telly and feeling sorry for myself. And, possibly because I can’t go far and I can’t race around the place, I’m looking at my local surroundings a lot closer. Which brings me to today’s post.

I’m lucky that I live within about 100 yards of quite a lot of green space and that is bordered by a farm, which means more green space. So while I’m literally walking around my block a lot of the time, it doesn’t always have to be in residential areas.

We’ve been hit by fog for the last couple of days here in my bit of West Yorkshire. So, where normally I’d take a picture of myself out on my walk and post it on social media, for the last couple of days I’ve been taking pictures of the area and what it looks like shrouded in fog and I thought it might help put a different slant on my diary, rather than just telling you that I went for a walk and it tired me out! These pictures are just a few minutes away from my front door.

As well as making it a bit more difficult for this asthmatic to breath, I think the fog always gives the place a kind of other-worldly feel. It’s been so thick that you can’t really see a great deal of what surrounds you and walking round the quiet streets, any voices that might be heard become quite detached and hard to track down. It’s been bloody cold too! But, I won’t let it put me off as I’m determined to get myself fit, healthy and back into the swing of normal life as soon as I can.

I genuinely thought I’d be back at work within a few days and the realisation has hit me hard. I’ve lost track of time but can safely say that it’s been a number of weeks now that life has been completely altered for me. No work, quite a lot of pain and discomfort, little sleep, I can’t move well on my left side still and the reality that I really have to sit down a lot!

However, I’ve started to feel a great deal more human in the last couple of days and it’s meant that rather than just go out and concentrate on the number of steps I’m managing and whether or not I might pass out, I’ve been able to have a bit of a look around, especially as I think the place can look so dramatic when surrounded by the fog. I thought it might be a nice angle for this diary, rather than just telling you that I’d been for a walk and it had tired me out, so I had to have a nice sit down!

This next picture is of the top of the road that runs past our house and I just thought it looked pretty amazing (especially when you know that if you turn a little bit to the right there’s a big Aldi supermarket at the top of the hill!) The sun is doing its best to fight through the fog, but you sort of know that it’s not going to win!

Tomorrow, I’ll be back out again for another walk as I try to just build up a bit of strength, resilience and a great deal more fitness. It’d be nice to get to the second half of what will be a reasonably short walk and not be out of breath, but I know that’s unlikely for a while yet. Hopefully tomorrow though, the fog will lift and there’ll be a bit less of a chill in the air.

Until next time, stay safe, listen to your body and be nice!

The Morley 10k

Bright sunshine, blue skies, a chill in the air and a slight breeze. Some – including me – would say these are perfect conditions for running.

And so it was that on Sunday 9th October, 2022, in bright sunshine, myself and my family left our house at just after 8.40am to make the short walk down to the start line of the inaugural Morley 10k.

Despite my usual case of pre-race nerves and self-doubt – usually put down to having hairy skinny legs and combining them with shorts while other people are around – I had an inkling that this was going to be a good race as soon as we arrived. As I’ve already mentioned, the weather was lovely, but it was the atmosphere that struck me more than anything.

Whether it was because I’d never seen this stretch of road so busy, I don’t know. But there was an unmistakable buzz about the place. As well as race officials and over 700 chattering runners there were lots of spectators at the side of the road, people in their gardens, others just sitting on their front step with a cuppa, all combining to make for a really positive atmosphere and sight.

As 9 o’clock struck, the race was started and off we went on the steady climb up Middleton Road that would mark our first kilometre. Spectators continued to line the road, some out of curiosity (probably just to find out who in their right mind was out running so far on a Sunday morning) and many there to support relatives and friends that were out there having a go.

Personally, as a keen runner, I’d ran the course a few times and so I was able to make a steady enough start, easing my way past a few slower runners as I went, while allowing others to pass me by. After all, at my age there’s no point whatsoever in a fast start when I know that there’s an enormous hill at the end of the 10 kilometres!

Morley town centre marked the start of the second kilometre and there were more people milling around and clapping our efforts. The course then swooped down a big hill where I was careful not to get too carried away for a couple of reasons. Firstly, these big hills can see a runner topple over, unable to handle their own momentum and secondly, with a while still to go and a long uphill section ahead of me, energy preservation was at the forefront of my mind!

At the bottom of the hill lies Morley Bottoms, so named because…well, you can work it out, surely? We would cross this point a further couple of times but there were already plenty of people around, which again was a lovely boost. Every so often there’d be a friendly marshal telling you how well you were doing too, which as someone who’s generally a solo trainer was a nice change. Normally I just have people like dog walkers staring at me, no doubt wondering why I’ve chosen to make myself look so knackered, sweaty and red!

Around the next mile or so would be spent running uphill and while this was a steady rise for the most part, I knew that it was going to be quite challenging. When you possess legs like mine – imagine a stork in trainers – then hills are going to be an inconvenience at best! However, I must admit today surprised me and when I got to the top of the climb and we turned to head back down – hurray – I was still feeling strong. The nagging injuries I’d taken into the run weren’t troubling me, which was a relief, but I was still careful to take things fairly steadily back down the long stretch of hill to the 3 mile point.

I knew that my family would be waiting for me back down at Morley Bottoms, having walked round from the start. And given I’ve lived in Morley for around 25 years, I thought I might see someone I knew too. In short, this meant that as I got there I was running at a pace of a minute quicker per mile than I would have liked as excitement got the better of me!

Emerging at the bottom of the hill my eyes darted everywhere, searching for my wife and children or even just a friendly face. But at first, when I couldn’t find them, it was the noise that hit me. It felt like half of the town had come out, all armed with bells, whistles, tambourines and anything else that they could make a racket with! It felt fantastic running through! And then as we ran through the crossroads I spotted my family – I heard my kids first, in truth! – and now, having ran just about half of the route, I was flying! That is, flying in terms of a tall thin, 50-year-old man flying…so probably moving at a fast jog to those who saw me!

The next part of the route took in a stretch of road where I regularly run, so I was comfortable here and began to try to move through the runners as best I could. However, as we turned to head down Middleton Road towards MacDonalds, the fact that this was a long hill that I’d be running straight back up, was at the forefront of my mind! I knew that this was the place on the route where I would probably begin to feel it in my legs…and of course the rest of my ageing body, lucky me!

Heading back up towards Morley was very much a case of trying to stay smiling and keeping my pace somewhere near respectable and I tagged on to the back of a much younger, much taller runner on this section just to give me something to concentrate on. Then, as we turned again to head up Albert Road and I knew I was close to the final mile, I realised that my legs still felt reasonably good. I got myself to the 5 mile mark and decided that with just over a mile to go, I was going to pick up the pace, while still keeping in mind the mountain that we’d have to climb near the finish!

As I approached Morley Bottoms again for the final time, I’d increased my pace and although my legs were now understandably a little shaky, I was confident of a strong finish. Morley Bottoms was still completely alive with noise and I must admit to feeling a little bit emotional as I ran through, listening to cries about how well I was doing and encouragement to keep going. As the road curved left though, I allowed myself a little look up, just to confirm how steep this final hill was. Sadly, nothing had changed…it still looked huge!

I’ll confess to feeling sick as I got close to the top of the main part of the hill. And, as I suspected they would, my legs felt a great deal more jelly-like! But, with the magnificent town hall now in my eyeline and the finish only a few hundred metres away, I knew I needed to grit my teeth and finish as strongly as I could.

My family were stood opposite the Town Hall – there’s a video where my son shouts, ‘You don’t even look tired’, bless him and his terrible eyesight – and again their support gave me a massive, timely boost. In fact though, there were people everywhere at this point and the support was wonderfully loud. It was at this point that I realised that I was completely on my own in the race. A quick glance over my shoulder showed the nearest chaser about 50 yards back and the next runners on from me were slightly closer.

I pushed myself to what I’ll laughingly describe as a sprint finish, almost catching a few people in front of me on the line. It was a blessed relief to get there though, so gaining one or two extra places didn’t really matter. I’d done exactly what I’d set out to do, finishing in 54.34, almost a minute quicker than I’d ran the course before. The winner finished in 34 minutes, but let’s not dwell on that too much…

It was wonderful to see so many people come together on the day. Hundreds came out to shout themselves hoarse and encourage a load of people that they probably didn’t even know, to run a distance that must have seemed like some kind of madness, so early on a Sunday morning! The race was a victory for community spirit and I’m really thankful for those that had the idea and then put all the hard work in to make it a reality. I really hope that the race goes from strength to strength, year upon year. As we try to forget a pandemic, isolation, austerity and the fact that everything in our lives may just be getting harder and harder to afford, this was the type of thing that the town needed and maybe the kind of thing that we all – runners or not – needed too.

Huge thanks to @morleyrunningclub and Morley Town Council (and anyone else involved that I don’t know of) for all of their hard work. The inaugural Morley 10k was an absolute triumph!

Grassroots Football: Back on the grass once again…but it might be a very long season!

I half recognised the feeling both when I went to bed on Saturday night and then while I was having a shave on Sunday morning. With the whole house silent, other than the noise of the swooshing of my razor in the sink, I tried to pin down what it might be. I showered – always a good place for thinking – but still it didn’t come to me. Breakfast presented no breakthrough either. And then, as I closed the front door and ventured out into the brisk chill of the early Autumn morning, it hit me.

Excitement!

Of course! This was the first Sunday of the grassroots football season and despite the fact that my team had finished rock bottom of their division last season and then subsequently lost around half of its squad, I was definitely smack in the middle of a bout of excitement.

I’d packed the car, as I always do, the previous afternoon. Kit bag, footballs, nets, Respect line, corner flags, step ladders for putting the nets up and a smaller bag with my match book and a few other things in. I’d got up slightly earlier than usual, having also lost an assistant coach, whose son was one of those who departed at the end of the previous season, which meant that I’d be starting to set up on my own. And now, I was getting into the car to drive the two minutes up to the pitch. To add to my by now rather distinct sense of excitement, it wasn’t even raining! Today would be one of those rare occasions where I would be able to set foot on the grass without getting soaking wet feet within about 3 minutes!

My excitement continued, but was dulled ever so slightly when I walked across our pitch and saw the state of the grass. It was easily a good three inches long and therefore not really very convenient for football. So, not ideal then! When one of our parents arrived, we decided to change to an adjacent pitch which appeared to be slightly shorter. That buzz of excitement was still hanging around and the fact that an adult pub team might turn up later looking to use the same pitch added a sense of jeopardy too!

Time always seems to fly when you’re setting up for a match. It can seem like one minute it’s just you, your corner flags and the odd dog walker and then the before you know it, players and parents are arriving and the whole pitch is surrounded with people. It’s always at this point when you realise that all of this is your responsibility and sometimes, especially when the opposition seem to have a number of players who look like grown men, it can be quite daunting!

Still though, the excitement hung around. I spoke to some parents, to some of my players, to the opposition coach and still the flutter stayed. As we warmed up and closer still to kick off, as we conducted a team talk, I was optimistic and looking forward to the game to come.

Sending your players out onto the pitch at this level can relieve you of any control that you thought you might have had. And this is where the excitement can begin to dissipate. It certainly did on Sunday. I sent my lads out onto the pitch on Sunday we some simple instructions, I’ve decided this year to try and think of games in terms of 3 Golden Rules because this should mean I’m never over-complicating matters for my players. I may then speak to people individually, but as a team I want them to all think in terms of these golden rules and trying to do a few simple things as well as we can.

After making a decent enough start on Sunday, we then conceded 3 goals in quick succession and the game was almost already out of our grasp. Worst of all was that they were avoidable goals, meaning that my excitement quickly turned to tension, dread and a real feeling of helplessness. I ask my team to enjoy playing and stay positive, but for them and for me it can be difficult when nothing’s going your way.

At 3-0 down I could see heads dropping and I could hear one or two of my players sniping at each other and arguing a little bit. Obviously, I tried to encourage them to stay positive and to keep playing and pushing forward, but by half time, we were 6-0 down and I knew that it was going to be a difficult half-time team talk!

That earlier feeling of excitement now disappearing somewhere over a local hill, I tried to stay positive. I pointed out the mistakes that were being made, but also reminded my team that they were a far better team than both the last 35 minutes and the score were showing. I repeated the three golden rules and pointed out some positive aspects of our performance, but made sure that I didn’t give anybody any excuses to relieve themselves of any responsibility for what was happening. I made sure that we all understood that every one of us was part of a team. No one person was responsible for this scoreline.

To cut a long story short, we were better in the second half, but we still lost the game 9-1. We had 7 new players in the squad, so it was always going to be a bit of a learning curve as these are 13 and 14-year-old kids getting used to new people.

At the end of the game I ramped up the positives and made sure everybody knew that in the second half we’d been far, far better. We train again on Wednesday evening, when we’ll try to tweak a few things about how we play in order to cut out the kind of silly errors that cost us dearly this weekend.

Then, we have another home game next Sunday. Same time, same place, different opposition. Hopefully I won’t allow myself to get too relaxed and too carried away then, because as I found out at the weekend, it turns out that excitement’s not always what it’s cracked up to be!