There’s this annoying affliction which I’m going to call Second Run Syndrome that afflicts me every time I take a break from exercise and then come back to it.

After having run around 8km around the Charles River, I decided to do it again a couple of days later.  The first time, I was agile and energetic, bouncing on the balls of my feet.  The second time, I had barely run the first kilometer when I felt my muscles beginning to seize up under the onslaught of lactic acid.

Basically, I’m unfit.  As an unfit person, it takes a little more than 2 days for my muscles to recover from the first bout of exercise.

I still managed to do the same ~8km circuit, but I had to walk across the Harvard bridge to let my muscles recover, before running back on the other side, and I was in considerably more pain upon returning to the campus than I was the first time.

I ought to try running again today – after all, it’s Sunday and I have the day off.  Unfortunately, my achilles tendons are still tight, especially this morning when I got out of bed this morning, and I have no idea if that’s likely to turn into an injury if I force myself to go running again.

A slightly more gradual increase in my exercise routine is probably advisable – we all like to think we can go to full intensity from a standing start, but that just doesn’t seem to be the case.  The problem isn’t with the acceleration – it’s with the standing start – If I hadn’t spent the last 3 months doing almost no exercise, I wouldn’t have this problem.

I’m currently doing an executive education program in Harvard Business School, and I’m rediscovering the student lifestyle.

This is good for me.  I didn’t live through my MBA like other people, I got up at 5.30am on a regular basis because I was a member of (an amateur) crew team.  We would practice from 6am to 8am two or three times per week, and then we’d go to class.  Then in the evenings of course we’d be up until 3 or 4am, partying.  I’d sleep a little around noon every day, and work like a crazy person much of the remaining time (when I wasn’t organising parties for the European club or preparing the next Sailing trip to the Antilles, or going skiing on a weekend, or buying tickets to go to the Sundance film festival – you get the idea).  And I still had time left over to sit and chat to friends.

When you get into the working world, and routine becomes your compass, you forget what you’re capable of, and how much you can actually cram into the hours in the day if you really set your mind to it.

Harvard has the entire river to run along.  They even have little maps that tell you the exact distance you run if you do a loop along the river, based on the bridge you start at and the bridge you cross over at to form the loop.  I ran 8.6km yesterday, from the Weeks Bridge to the Harvard Bridge.

This is the run I did on the Map-My-Run website.

You can also see the Charles River Running Map here.

The only problem with the river run is that there’s a hell of a lot of traffic.  It’s not really like Perth, which lets you know with every breath you take that you are a very very long way from anything else.

Harvard also has a great fitness center called Shad Hall.  It’s like the Penn center insofar as all the equipment is in great shape, the room is designed to handle the number of people who are actually likely to show up, and there isn’t a terrible smell hanging around, nor are you in a basement.  In short, it’s not a Club Med Gym in Paris.  Gyms like this in Paris do not exist.  Even the terribly expensive ones are horribly crowded and this place doesn’t cost the students much at all (and I get access as part of the program I’m on).

In short, I’m busier than I have been in months, have less control over my calendar than ever before, and yet I’m doing more sport than I could possibly manage in Paris.  How does this work?

The answer is : Predictability.

In Paris, I still get phone calls from stressed out colleagues at 8pm.  I turn up in the morning with 17 emails sent during the night from people who think it’s cool to work when everyone else has gone home, and who get offended when you don’t answer within 24 hours.  I don’t dare try to organise my day so that it fits into decent hours because if I did, I’d be swimming against the current.

So we do in 14 hours a day, work that could have been squeezed into 6 hours per day if only everyone had the same expectations of a balanced lifestyle.

Oh well.  At least I get to live hard and do lots of sport for a while here in Harvard.

It’s a while since I’ve managed to post. In fact, I almost forgot this blog even existed until I got an automated message saying someone had posted a comment. But just because I’ve not been posting doesn’t mean I haven’t been running.

In fact, ever since my brother saw me putting on my ski tunic back in April and remarked, “Wow, that’s the most unfit I think I’ve ever seen you”, I’ve been doing my best to squeeze both exercise and a more conscious choice of food into my life, around a very unhelpful work schedule.

Recently, I went on a couple of runs around the Jardin du Luxembourg. I managed 10km the first time, but only 6km the second time. Probably something to do with the 5 vodka-tonics I’d had the night before and the fact that I’d only left my legs 48 hours to recover from the first run before starting the second.

A little before my Jardin routine, I was in Perth for business, and after having gotten over the jet-lag, I went for a run along the river. The extreme level of fitness of the people there, combined with the beautiful setting and the free time (time difference meant that Paris was asleep and my email had calmed down), all served to encourage me to run.

Running past lots of people who clearly have sport and health as a key pillar in their lives also gave me a healthy dose of guilt!

In the absence of many opportunities to go running (travel committments), I’ve been going to the gym during my lunch hour from time to time.

The advantage is that I feel quite refreshed for the afternoon, but the problem is that I only really get 45 minutes, which is enough for a quick 30-minute cycle and a few stretching exercises, but you then need to cool off and get back to work.

I’ve stopped drinking coffee and alcohol for a month, and it’s going fairly well, but that’s because it’s one of those all-or-nothing committments that are easier to keep than “I’m going to drink a little less”, or in this case “I’m going to do more exercise”.  What I really need to do is use the same approach as I did for drinking, and commit a month to getting into the best shape possible.

Then I can take extreme measures.

I went running as promised last night, and managed a few turns of the Jardin du Luxembourg
in the dark, with L. We went around four times, which is not too bad considering my previous best was 3 turns, but I sure felt the lack of exercise since November.

The first turn was unpleasant as I felt still and achy, especially around the second kilometer. My thighs and shins felt like they were storing acid up for the hell of it, and the muscles got really stiff, and I had overdressed since it’s been really cold lately and I didn’t want to freeze. Of course the night was unusually warm.

The second and third laps felt much better, and at the end of the third, we decided we both felt well enough for a fourth. Ah, the folly. I quickly figured out this hadn’t been such a good idea when all those parts of my body that had miraculously started cooperating started complaining enthusiastically.

When you’re running with someone else you really don’t want to stop because you feel as though you’re going to look like an idiot, or old before your time or something. As it is, I probably didn’t really need to stop, but I certainly will need some additional practice before I’m in a condition to go running long distances.

I decided I would not drink for the month of January.

I know this sounds like a good thing, but it backfired spectacularly.

I made this decision in late November. I was, after the moment of decision, carrying the knowledge that, come January, I would be going on a one-month alcohol cure.

You don’t realise the restraint you exercise on a daily basis until it disappears, and that’s exactly what mine did when I knew I would be on a health kick for January. Like the binge before the diet, I started to indulge.

And it was good.

Unfortunately, I am now supposed to be in training for a half-marathon by 2nd March (56 days from today).

Well, no mountain’s worth climbing that ‘ent steep ‘n tall.

Yesterday the whole gym and running thing kicked off again, and I brought my gym kit to work today with the firm intention of exercising during my lunch hour, only when I got to the gym I realised I’d left certain particularly important items of clothing at home and would therefore not be able to partake of the lunchtime torture, what with my not having and exhibitionist streak, and not wanting to get thrown out of my gym.

To recover from the embarassing waste of a lunchtime break, I called L again and arranged to meet at 8 this evening for a run. Apparently she’s not been exercising much over the last month or so either. Part of me is looking forward to going for a run even though it’s cold and I’m unfit and it’ll be dark.

Inside I’m screaming.

While my organisational skills may bring to mind the Charge of the Light Brigade, you can’t fault my willingness to get my foot back in the stirrup… at least these last two days. Long may it last.

I really didn’t want to go running today, but after E visited last week and convinced me to go for a run, I figured that it would be lacking in integrity to not at least repeat the run the following weekend. I know that make no sense, it’s the sort of crazy internal dialogue you experience when you’re trying to convince yourself to go running and it’s so cold outside you can barely breathe.

I did exactly the same course, since I assumed I would have a feel for how hard it would be, what with my having done this last week and all. Boy was I wrong.

When I got down on the right bank of the river to start running, the first thing I noticed was a really cold headwind that was actually making it more difficult to run because it was strong enough to push back at me. When I say really cold, I mean it cut through my Gore-Tex jacket, my t-shirt and my thermal exercise shirt. It gave me a cold headache, I lost feeling in my ears and my eyes started to water like I was auditioning for a part in a Hollywood tragedy. The first 3 km were very painful indeed.

Then I crossed the bridge and did the quick run through the Jardin des Plantes, which was the nicest bit of the entire run, because it was protected from the wind and there were other people there. Everything’s relative, and upon seeing all the families going for walks covered from head to toe in designer arctic-wear, it became gradually clear that it wasn’t all that much warmer here than out on the towpath, just fractionally less windy. I also began to realise that I had no choice but to finish the run at a fair speed if I didn’t want my body temperature to drop like a stone the second I slowed to a walk.

Finally, on the way back, braving the urine-infested towpath of the left bank, the wind was at my back, which eased both the cold and the difficulty running a little. My ears still felt like they were going to fall off though. I finally made it to the end in 45 minutes, climbing the steps to the pavement with the energy of someone who knows this last effort is all that lies between him and a hot shower. I sat on one of the benches on the bridge catching my breath for a few seconds while bemused tourists walked past in shapeless layers of clothing adorned by colourful scarves, small red noses pointed in my direction as they tried to figure out what this sweaty person was going on the bridge in so few layers. It didn’t take long before I started walking home.

Once home, after a shower, I was so lethargic I almost fell asleep – at one in the afternoon. Something about the temperature change does that to me. I ended up going to keep a friend company while he prepared the first 2 of 9 courses for the Thinksgiving dinner he’s throwing, but I think I was probably not the best company in my dream-like state.

I can train here through the winter, but this cold is going to require better equipment. Gloves and a hat, for example. If the temperature stays this low, I don’t know how I’ll manage to motivate myself to run through December and January.

6.5km, 45m36s, HR 157 (incl. pauses).

When you’re running in the cold, one of the most obvious things you need is clothing that keeps you warm. Then again, you don’t want 5 layers of clothing that you’ve got nowhere to put when you start wanting to peel it off 20 minutes into your run. While this would have posed a problem back in the days when we covered ourselves in the pelts of dead animals, it stands to reason that, in this day and age, there should be a wealth of alternatives in the retail stores that exist to solve these very problems.

Well, actually, no.

After some frustrated shopping experiences today (I don’t like shopping at the best of times), I’ve come to the conclusion that sports clothing is dominated by brands that have figured out that the majority of their sales go to kids who don’t do any real sport, but look really cool in a hoodie. As a consequence, the shops seem to stock more XL than any other size (as though only fat people exercise – discrimination against normal people, I say), and you can get the same cotton sweater in 20 different colours with 40 different logos on it, and that takes up most of the floor space in the store, but looking for a decent undershirt (that doesn’t absorb moisture like a sponge) to go running in is a lost cause.

All this to say that I eventually found what I was looking for, in the “specialty section” of the store (that’s the part of the sports shop that actually sells sports clothing) – to my shame it’s branded, which is a bit of a problem since I have a Cayce Pollard view of the world and highly visible brands make me want to throw up. But at least I shouldn’t sequentially freeze then overheat then freeze again when I go running.

It’s ridiculous to think that I might have gained some form of momentum from the little run I did last night, but as we all know, ninety percent of motivation is in the mind. The other 10% is… um… somewhere else. Anyway, in an effort not to lose the momentum I gained by forcing myself (through evil trickery) to go running last night (to the extent that running once in a week can be considered momentum), and to therefore preserve the motivation that, as I just pointed out, is entirely a fabrication of my mind, I went running again this evening.

Do not be fooled by these easy and unassuming words, “I went running again this evening”.

I paced around my apartment desperately trying to quell the knowledge that going running would be a good idea in the same way (and using broadly the same techniques) as I do in the morning, when I know it’s time to get up, but getting out of bed is just about the most unpleasant thing my waking mind can consider, and my subconscious mind throws every argumentative gambit it can dredge up at my conscious mind trying to convince it that a couple hours more sleep are far more important than not arriving late for a really important meeting.

Finally – and to my infinite surprise – I found myself putting on my exercise clothes. Layer upon layer of them. The next thing you know, there I was going around the Jardin du Luxembourg again. Same distance as yesterday, three laps for a total of 6 kilometres. A little bit faster than last time (31m 30s, 11.45kph).

I’d like to say that, in the context of my attempt to build up some training regime, I feel a sense of momentum building up, but that might be premature. I went running for a bunch of reasons today, none of them good: guilt, boredom and the fact that I had been building myself up to it since I finally made it out of bed – I knew I’d feel like I’d let myself down if I didn’t go. I’ll know the motivation and momentum are getting more tangible (even if they remain illusory fictions of the mind) when the reasons I go running are positive rather than negative.

Besides, if I hadn’t gone running, I’d have had nothing to write about, and I wouldn’t have this interesting new blister to deal with.

For all my moaning about the darkness, I did manage to go for a run this evening. Not that I needed to, the traffic in strike-chaos-ridden Paris was enough to get any cyclist’s heart racing.

The person that I was a week ago, while fully pumped up with motivational mojo, retained a sufficiently clear head to know that the person I would be today would have the spine of a jellyfish. This unfortunate but inevitable metamorphosis would result in my inability to train due to seemingly valid but fundamentally weak reasons such as, “it’s dark”, “I’m tired” and “I’d rather have tiramisu”. This person (the me from a week ago) therefore arranged with a friend – we’ll call her L – to go for a run today. Or should I say tonight.

If there’s one thing I have in common with that manipulative bastard (the me from a week ago), it’s that I really hate letting people down, so if I said I was going to go running with her, then I’m going. Even if it’s cold enough to freeze vodka out there.

So today I went around the Jardin du Luxembourg 3 times. Since it’s closed at night, we ran around the periphery, which means you’re dodging doddery granddads and pedestrians and other nuisance factors that make you wish you had a gun, or maybe a klaxon.

Anyway, the route when you’re not allowed inside the Jardin looks like this, and is 36 metres shy of two kilometres, but the extra 36 metres are made up by the weaving and dodging you do to avoid all the pedestrians. We ran three laps in about 36 minutes which comes to a conveniently precise 10 km per hour. My average HR was 156, which is on the high side. My calories burnt were… Actually I’ve decided not to focus too much on that, I’m not doing this to lose weight.

I found the run hard. This is because my right calf and my lower back both decided to hurt. This in turn is because I am as supple as one of the girders in the Eiffel Tower. Remedial action may be required, but my local yoga class isn’t populated by the most attractive people in the world, and there are some versions of Adho Mukha Svanasana I don’t need to see. I’ll start with some simple stretching before and after my workouts (more than the minimum I currently do) and see if things improve.