Fartlek n. Athletics a method of training for middle- and long-distance running, mixing fast with slow work. [Swedish, from fart ‘speed’ + lek ‘play’]
It’s week seven of the City to Surf’s 11 week training program. Weeks one to three started out slugglishly. Who is the City to Surf kidding with its 80 minute Sunday runs? Struth. I didn’t even know what Tuesday’s advice meant: Fartlek. I’m still unsure what Friday means: ‘SAE’. The only day I seemed to stick to was Thursday; REST. Ha. I’ll assume ‘SAE’ has something to do with relaxation too.
By Week Four, I had sorted out the routine. Running. Not so bad. Just got to put on the old Asics, the smelly sports bra (I should really invest in a second one), my little shorts with their built-in underpants and get out. Just got to actually do it. Run. Not just think about it or print out programs or look at fancy leggings in Rebel Sport. No, it’s actually about the running.
By Week Five, I was gun ho. Every day at lunch, I ran. Thirty minutes, 40, and 50 on the weekend. I started to enjoy it, like running was my right. I was in the zone. My Nike Plus encouraged me. “You have exceeded your goal of running 40 minutes by five minutes.” “You have exceeded your goal of running 40 minutes by ten minutes.” I was unstoppable. Even Lance Armstrong agreed. “Hi, this is Lance Armstrong. Congratulations. You have done your longest run to date.”
(If you don’t have the Nike Plus and you like running, buy it immediately. It will revolutionalise your running.)
So, for two weeks my graphs looked good. (The Nike Plus tracks your runs. I put my ipod in my computer and it takes me to the Nike Plus site, illustrates my progress on a pretty graph and tells me my average distance and speed, and my personal bests.)
However, as I started upping the running, my right knee started to weaken. Fine, I thought. However, a decaying body won’t defeat me,. I stopped running on pavement and stuck to grass tracks. I ignored the ache, hoping it wasn’t a warning of something worse to come. Then, last Sunday, I did a 50 minute run. I ignored the knee. I had to; I was with my brother and didn’t want to “be a girl”. (Particularly because the week before I had to stop running with him after ten minutes due to eating a large piece of chocolate cake beforehand. I thought I was going to vomit.)
I couldn’t walk properly for two days. I had to walk down stairs like a cow. (I’ve heard cows can’t walk down stairs.) So, week six was a REST week. I have Runner’s Knee, according to google.
Definition: A softening or wearing away and cracking of the cartilage under the kneecap, resulting in pain and inflammation. The cartilage becomes like sandpaper because the kneecap is not riding smoothly over the knee.
Ouch. It’s now day one of Week Seven and I am thinking of going running today. It’s a debate. I risk exacerbating my Runner’s Knee by running, or becoming unfit by not running. In any case, I have decided to abandon the City to Surf “Advanced program” and just run twice a week. That’s all my old joints can handle, as it turns out.
Oh, I should also mention a good side-effect of the Runner’s Knee: my career. The men in senior management see the smallest sign of limping and suddenly we’re bonding. “Oh, you’ve hurt your knee. I hurt my knee once, playing football.” No one cares about the work, it’s all about the knee. “Kate, how’s the knee? You been running again?” They can’t get enough of it. Sport is the way for women to crash that glass ceiling. My new insight is starting a revolution. All the women in the office are planning to feign injuries to get some precious CEO time. “The knee’s fine thanks… Now, about that pay rise…”
