Swimming ... for Stiffness ?

Every Sunday for the past few weeks, I have spent at least 45 minutes swimming a mile, or rather 1600 metres, in the lanes at the pool. (Yes, indoors. Yuk! I know). I've been using a combination of my fairly smooth-but-steady breast stroke and a lumpy form of freestyle. Among other things I've been trying to get the latter more coordinated and sustainable.

If I take a deep breath, I might now manage 4x25m freestyle, but then I get puffed and have revert to breast stroke (which I can do indefinitely, it seems). The development is as much about stroke coordination/efficiency as cardio response and body strength. Freestyle (front crawl), when it's broken down, has got about 43 discrete micro-actions, each of which can be done wrong in 11 ways and correctly in one or two. So there's all that theory, experiment, proprioception and observation to do. And there's the physical infrastructure. Lungs and muscles take several weeks and a range of Sunday lunches to change from state A to state B. This all takes dedication and patience. Taken together it's a nice mixture of challenges. Eventually I'd like to be able to do big chunk (1000 m?) of continuous freestyle without having to hold on to the ropes or sinking to the bottom. 

Results? Apart from aches in parts of my shoulders that don't get used in the office, and perhaps a bit of general tone, I've noticed another less welcome effect. My legs seem to be 25 years older! For example, rather than springing out of the sofa during the ad break, I'm tempted to relax and enjoy the show. "Ah yes, that's an amazing whiter white, even on grass stains!". When I do get up (it feels like "out" of a huge gravity well), one leg turns into a block of wood and I hobble uncontrollably towards the screen. Hmm, I might also try a tiny bit of stretching, or even yoga. It might help, you never know.

Yoga with some differences

Yoga's inescapable these days. I used to do a fair bit a few years ago, when it was more of a niche thing, but nowadays it seems to have become an Industry, complete with a uniform. I've got a stack of yoga books, including an excellent runner-oriented one (distance runners' hamstrings get short and tight, which you will notice in down-dog).

Never liked uniforms, as you know. Aha, what's this popping up on the ever-keen-to-interest-you Meetup? Naked Yoga in South London! It seems legit, and not a front for a muscle-boys' knocking shop (they have an app for that), so let's join. After a few weeks on lurking in the group, I register for a class.

It's run by Doria, whose site has got a few references to her naked yoga sideline (or it might be her core offer, I don't know), complete with press coverage and some nice studio shots of her. And were some of the images from a warm evening at Burning Man, I wonder, as it looks like some artistic structures/contraptions in the background on the sand?

Naked Yoga means practicing yoga without the contraints of clothing. There is a sense of freedom practising yoga naked: freedom from negative feelings about your body, and deeper connection with yourself and the world around you. While many equate being naked with sex, this couldn't be further from the truth in a naked yoga class. Naked Yoga is about being comfortable in your own skin and the amazing confidence that comes with it. It's about knowing, accepting and loving yourself at your core.

http://www.doriayoga.com/naked-yoga/

The studio is tucked away in XXXX road, a block or two away from where the A3 whizzes through on its way to Clapham Common. Shoes off at the foyer - good sign, and then up some little stairs to the studio proper. The building is a former warehouse? Small factory? Dunno, anyway it's converted light industrial about 150 years old with nice high rafters and a lovely weathered looking wooden floor. The floor's lovely and clean, thanks to the shoes-off arrangement.

I'm about the 3rd guest there. Doria's still putting mats out in a U, so I take time to admire the 6ft long model sailboat, which looks like the sort of thing that people used to race on ponds. Not sure what to do now ..., er, um. Aha, someone has taken their kit off and sat on his mat. I'll do that. People, mostly chaps, arrive as we do so, and go through their stretches. I improvise. Not sure I've got a pre-session Routine, so I find where the tension is and stretch those things. Shoulders mostly. Numbers are building up now, and finally we have 6 or 7 men and 2 women, plus instructor.

The added ingredients are : music (Doria's got a cute but effective Bluetooth speaker), lots of heat, and for me, a Vinyasa oriented approach. Removed ingredients are: clothes, light (just the red of the heaters, and some other very minor light sources, and presumably any inhibitions. I'm perfectly fine with the nudity : more concerned about the intensity of the practice.

I shouldn't have worried. Although there is some pretty strong work in the middle of the session, we start gently in corpse, then visualisation and intention-setting, before waking up the breath. There's a core routine in the Vinayasa sequence around which variations are built. Plank, Up-dog (or is it Cobra?), Down-Dog, Forward Bend. Tonight we are working within Warrior 1, Warrior 2 and Triangle. I spend a bit of time thinking "really?, there?" but I'm not bothered by my inadequacies. Doria gives numerous Option 1's for the less flexible to work on, so we don't need to gauge ourselves by the Option 3 crew. I do a lot of sweating!

Practicing without clothes is good. No scrunching or tightening of fabric anywhere at all. Heat can evaporate immediately, no damp patches. Having a glance at fellow practitioners is instructive too and makes more sense when nude. Not that I'm competing or ogling, but I feel I can get a sense of the intended pose by viewing a few examples. The anatomy is easier to read without interfering material.

The high energy aspects of the class then fade, and there's a lovely warm down sequence. Again we are in a corpse-like pose. Our teacher gets us into this state of active repose and then moves amongst the group. A fragrant energising oil, warmed by her palms, is offered to the temples as we rest, which seems to unite/vibrate/connect Heart-Throat-Forehead. We consider the effects of this, and of the practice, reflecting on our intention, and our (unfortunate?) need to re-enter the world and then we finish.

2012 Running Plans

It's that time again. Thou Shalt Resolve to Do Better!

Not really into the whole annual resolution thing these days, but I have indeed signed up for another series of cross-countries, as reported previously. A friend of mine is somehow doing the London Marathon - for charity, I'll find out which one - and so I put it to him that getting up double-early to drive down to Newlands Corner on a chilly Saturday to do a hilly 10 K is just what his training schedule needs. Bearing in mind that his idea of a gradient is the end of Waterloo Bridge, whereas the G3's frequently have runners, or rather ambulatory particpants, on their fours up the side of St Martha's hill.

Looks horrendous - cold muddy and hard work. I hate hills

Let's do it.

Sudden thought. It's just next week! Ahh, better get the trainers on. This week I ran with D around the block on a cold, damp night, headtorch a go go. By myself on a sunny Friday, attacking Frith Hill a couple of times. Again with D gently along the towpath today (Sunday). That's about, what, 10 miles altogether? On the back of nothing at all since mid November? So I'm just about prepared for the first 3 Km.

G3 Series : http://www.allabouttriathlons.co.uk/events_g3-run.html

G3 Nerdy Stats

After 3 races of the G3 Series 10 k, here are the promised Nerdy Statistics.

Obviously, as a not-very-dedicated middling plodder, I'm not going to win, so it's more appropriate to see where I am with respect to the distribution. Rather than chart the whole field, I've chosen to compare my time and position with the leader and median (i.e. half way down the field) for the overall result and my category Veteran Man. Finding the median is easier than computing the mean (average), as I can just look up the half way point in the listing. These are my times for each of the three races (not an identical course, but similar).

Data laid out as follows.

• Number of runners in each of the four categories, then the total
• My time hh:mm:ss
• Overall: leader's time, median time, my position overall
• Vet Man: leader's time, median time, my position in this category
• Overall: my time ratio vs leading time; vs median. Lower is better (Note 1)
• Vet Man: my time ratio vs leading time; vs median in this category
• My position as a percentage of the Overall field (Note 2)
• My position as a percentage of Category

Encouraging to see an improvement in each of the metrics. Goes with my general trajectory of improving (restoring fitness?) since I switched the running back on in December. Sort of confirms what I thought about progress and how you feel competing.

Note 1: The winner would score 1.000 here, and someone running at half the speed would be 2.000. So I take 50% longer than the leader, but in terms of time I'm within a few percent of the middle.

Note 2: The winner would be about 0.3% (1 divided by the number of runners) on position, whereas the last runner would score 100%. The median runner scores 50% by definition. The results show that the distribution isn't symmetric (there are more people towards the front; the average is quicker than the median). It's taken me 3 goes to work towards the better half of the field, and I'm not quite there yet, whereas on time I'm not doing so bad.

G3 Part 3

Up early again for another 10 k on the Downs. D and I both felt odd (hot, queasy) during the night : a bug? some food not right?

I continued with the queasy sensation during the run, but no emergencies of any kind. A much simpler route than 1 or 2, characterised by long flat sections, tracking along the contours of the North Downs, and equally long steep bits at right angles. I started well, moving forward in the bunch in the first km, then lost places when my shoelaces unravelled. As usual, the steep southern approach to St Martha's is amusing in the extreme. A walking family looked on us stumbling up the past aghast - had we been running all the way from Canterbury perhaps? No just 35 minutes around those fields. "We're having fun, honest!"

It occurred to me that in these sorts of distances, that there's nowhere to hide. You have to concentrate continually to keep your footing, so turning off mentally is not an option. Physically, the pace is pushing all the time, at what atherletes like to call the Lactate Threshold. For me, that's three steps per breathing cycle, as opposed to the four steps of a half-M or Sunday run.

Likewise, progress in gaining speed endurance fitness isn't accompanied by any less discomfort. You feel crap if you're doing well or badly, just that if you can go faster for the same amount of crap feeling you'll place higher. Assuming you're competing consistently.

Similar time to last couple of outings 10 km = 1 h 08 m.

Ghastly photo and nerdy stats to follow.

G3 10k - part 1

Coldest. Start. Ever! Not used to 8:30 runs, but when my fingers stopped freezing I could admire the North Downs, ups, downs and ups again.

First of the G3 series of local (Guildford) 10k races.

Generally tough, though not mega-tough (e.g. ground ok to run on, no excessive laundry bill afterwards). Quickly realised that walking was a pretty decent idea on the steep stretches. Hefty walking steps are almost as fast as a pathetic running action after a certain gradient. The downs are a puzzle as well; too fast down and you spend more energy controlling the descent, whereas you really need to be taking a breather for the next climb.

The route, having descended from Newland's Corner, took in St Martha's (approached from the eastern ridge) and over the other side, and then back up again.

I placed about two-thirds down the field, at 1:07 or so. I've got a file of all the times and places, and might do some nerdy stats after next time. The veteran man category was noticeably more competitive than the bulk of the field, which probably says something about how the various age groups use running, not that the 50's and 60's bred a race of supermen.

Look for runner 275 in the photos.

Wild Swimming

I've been an armchair fan of the idea of wild swimming for a while, encouraged a bit by the recent movement (Kate Rew, Daniel Start, Waterlog, OSS etc).

Therefore delighted to see mention in a recent OSS mailing of a spontaneous swim in my local river. Somewhere I've had a small splash in the past.

I therfore hooked up with the three or so participants on Facebook (strangers before today!) and a time and place was arranged. A time starting with a zero it has to be emphasised!

I had an experimental plunge in the very same stretch of water during last weekend's long run, and rather than getting out as soon as I felt cold, persisted for a few minutes. It felt better after a while, and I was in for about 10 minutes. Certainly more endurable than last time. Got spotted by a few people on the bank who may or may not have noticed my lack of trunks. Certainly got spotted just as I jumped out, right in front of a couple of walkers! No discernable change of expression, so hard to say if they were Disgusted of Surrey, or uncaring.

Back to the case in point. I was concerned about three or so things:

• Not getting up in time.
• Horrifying people with my nude swimming, especially potential friends.
  
• Swimming slowly, falling behind (someone had mentioned a route that seemed to be about a mile and half, and back!).
• Getting freezing cold, and having to get out.

Having mulled things over, I decided to mitigate the risks of the last two by practicing an extended period of swimming in the pool on Sunday (mostly crawl for a change - not my favourite stroke) and packing a nice cup of cocoa. I decided not to care about the second one, and set the alarm to counter the first risk.

The others seemed very nice on meeting (one bloke and two women, all my age, ish). Locked the bike, and took bag of stuff down to the water. Suggested a slightly more discreet entry point, away from the boat house. Mounted the cycle bag on the fence. Others left towels, put on their neoprene shoes and got in. Hmm, the nude angle, do I or don't I. Pretended to get "changed", whilst the others (in various degrees of wetsuits or swimming costumes) were already in. That is, I took what I had on, off, and boldly got in.

"Ahh - we've got a NATURIST!"

"Oh, excellent!"

"ooh er"

These were the initial comments, all in a very, I thought, friendly style. Either they really didn't mind, or were just being nice.

One of the women, let's say C, then started talking about did I know Charlie somebody. I said I didn't know many people in the naturist scene, being more of a free range nudie. Between mouthfuls of cold water.

We settled down and swam along, at less than walking pace downstream. It got less cold after a few minutes, and positively enjoyable after 10 more minutes. Ducks regarded us suspiciously. There were occassional walkers and cyclists, but no other river users. It started raining after a bit, which was fine. Conversation was mostly about swimming, lidos, next weekend's Big Jump. The bloke, A, moaned about his wetsuit vest, and I said that my costume was just fine.

C explained to me properly, that in the past she'd worked as a model, and had done work for Charlie Simonds, he of naturist publishing reknown, if not actual fame.

We turned back after 20 or so minutes in the water, and headed back upstream. Although the current was light (harldy any rain for weeks) the going was harder this way, and more determined swimming was required. It turned out we'd covered about 1000 m altogether.

Jumped out near the entry point, and walked back to the clothes. To various titters. And a friendly good morning to a passing cyclist.

Discussion sort of turned to my naturism. C said that in warm conditions, she actually preferred a zero costume. Woman J mentioned seeing the latest London WNBR, with some amusement I think. We briefly discussed, inter alia, the laws regarding nudity. That is, to my understanding BEING naked isn't an offence, but ACTING offensively can be. Which is as it should be, to my mind, since how can anyone be culpable for being anything? Whereas doing something implies some act of will.

We went our ways back to the unreal world. I promised to wear my blue comedy wig for the next outing, probably in a week's time. I'm also encouraged to note that my FB friend requests to the swimmers haven't been rejected.

Outdoor swimming

Inspired by Kate Rew's book (Wild Swim, which is VG by the way) arriving from Amazon, I ploshed bodily into the local river today. It's broken my UK outdoor swimming duck this year. Here's that diary entry in full.

Cycled to sinuous bend in the Wey, just downstream of Godalming. Recce'd the scene at first : bright, sunny, nice breeze, occasional towpath users and the odd boat. Various fowl splashing about, cows on opposite bank being cows. Checked out the getting in and out place. Got down to shorts and read the paper for a bit, to gauge traffic, and to see how hot it was (quite, but not summer of 76 exactly). Stowed all keys, phones and things of economic significance away from casual fingers.

Waited for a quiet gap. Sunnies off. Hat off. Kit off. Walked in. It! Was! Cold!

Did a length or two. Didn't feel like dunking the head, given the (perfectly natural) detritus on the surface. Fingers gettting numbbbb. Quick get out.

Back to the towel. Sit there for a bit. Dried off. Waved to passing boats : oh look, a shivering naked person, titter titter. Cycled home.

Back to it

Quick report on last week. Lots of gym, a run OUTSIDE, bit of swimming.

James' saturday tai chi. Great to be back in class. Bumbled through the lao jia (manageable with others. totally impossible on my tod). Bit of push hands. No I don't remember any of the two-hand push hands patterns. Got introduced to Chen style sword (jian). Interesting!

Mandarin classes started up again. The momentum seems to be building there, more conversations. I think our teacher should force us to speak autonomously a bit more, we can handle it. I've tried to be systematic in the week, in terms of pushing the vocab and han zi (i.e. characters). Lost track of cpod though.

This week wasn't so great. Missed lots of gym "slots" due to random social gatherings and late working. I should just have a Rule. Six o clock, down tools, phones, pens, mice.

Ploddy re-start

I'm quite glad not to be running London today. Just saw the finish of the elite Women and elite men, and sure enough, it was chucking it down. Same thing 30 miles away, rain, hail everything.

An hour before, during the day's spell of nice weather, I went out for what, in the usual scheme of things, would be my 1-2 hour easy run. This time it was 45 minutes of slow stiff plodding. My legs felt unwilling and the shoes felt tired too. Effects of yesterday's gym? Unused to the feel of pavement? I tried to remember last time I did any outdoor running. The scenery was beautiful though. Along the Wey path, I was chased along by a pair of geese being chased by a swan. So the birds are getting their routines together too.

Gym card useful at last

Two visits to local exercise facilities this weekend, but no running, and only reading about tai chi rather than doing it.

Along with doing fiddly painting jobs around the house, and sporadic bass-playing (both good for knotting up muscles) I managed to get two uses out of my scandalously expensive gym membership card.

To the local leisure centre for some weights/rowing/treadmill on Saturday. Pretty good, but no heroic achievements.

Yesterday evening, I went along to Alton Leisure centre's weekly naturist swim (handy for sauna, steam room and jacuzzi too). (Every Sunday, 730 - 930 pm, GU34 1ST, Tel: 01420 540040). Both these leisure centres are run by the same company, so I got a little discount on entry to Alton, which offset the travel costs.

I've been meaning to go along to this session for some time. To date, I've been a naturist on beaches (UK and foreign) and open spaces only, and haven't been to clubs or swims. I'm glad I did, but regret not being able to persuade Mrs. Monkey on this occasion. It was relatively quiet by all accounts, less than twenty users I'd guess, and only a couple of women. Because it was uncrowded, and people seemed to know each other, there was a nice village pump vibe.

In my ideal world, every swimming pool would be clothing optional, all the time, not to mention all the beaches. As it is, it's increasingly hard, i.e. they are being discontinued, to find an open (not club-based) session in the UK (Netherlands, Germany, Austria are more like the ideal) so this session is worth supporting.

I put in about half an hour of solid swimming, and a few iterations of the hot stuff. Result: Mentally energised by the occasion of being an official UK naturist facility user for the first time, and bodily de-knotted.

Trying to keep up

I've got this sensation of falling off the back of the treadmill. Metaphorically of course, my running is comparatively fine.

Troublesome day at work (not enough time!! MSc administrators panicking!! Both of them!!) then felt exhausted, so planned to drift back to the sofa. Mrs Monkey rang up, with troubling developments on the Felix front. A card from the RSPCA (danmn, they're out, must call first thing tomorrow) and explanatory voicemail from the (helpful, understanding) vets. Message to irritatingly anonymous worried neighbours : No, we. are. not. neglecting. our. cat. OK??

She was going to the gym anyway, so I grabbed a Jaffa cake and joined in. Felt ok actually, despite initial lethargy. 15 mins running, various weights and floor contortions, 15 mins x-trainer. Lots of punters (though not as many as in Bloomsbury, which is constantly packed).

Back home to find Felix out somewhere. I update my twitter, in case M wants to follow the plot, and then he chooses that moment to wander back in. Has the panicky old lady fed him, or not? Anyway, he gets another dinner. And another wash.

Because of the wonderful new Pet Porte (photo) , we can do clever things like keep everybody in at night.

Missed Chinese tonight obviously. Read the book, highlighting new words. Pleasantly surprised at the level of comprehension, though I'm making no regular effort to update my vocab. Resolve to try and catch up with Chinesepod. Though not tonight. And so to bed.

Doctor 2

Something's not right. Remember the incident of the unpleasant sensations in the heart? About 18 months ago, as diligent readers may remember. Well it's back. I felt, er, em dunno doctor, "funny" standing around in Marks earlier this week. Guildford high street is steep, but not vertical, so I didn't think I'd been overdoing it. Went to see the Dr on Friday, with noncommital results. You see, if and when I exercise, there's not problem. Except that time in the Peak District. And it has been feeling strange off and on for half of this term.

However, today, walking up Market Street, the distinct unpleasantness came back, as we were looking around for the annual Christmas decoration. I don't much like shops at the best of times, but I had to retire from the close, warm shop to the relative calm of the square. Then we wandered at half steam to our favourite erzatz noodle joint, and then to cinema. But walking up our (rather steep) street from the station seemed to require caution.

Back as soon as possibly can to the GP, I think.

Overdoing it?

I should know better, what with my colleague being having been on a heart-surgery rollercoster, and who is now spending hours in sofa-ville, recovering.

The running was going fairly well, which is to say uneventful, until just now. The countryside has been lovely in the sun, and I'd been scampering about it 2-3 times a week. Mostly steady-paced running, usually with the same partner.

This Friday, we decided on Intervals, and round a field/cricket pitch nearby. I've done plenty of 2-minute fast sessions round there before, so I know the procedure pretty well.



Now, you know when you do hard sessions, you usually hold something back? Well I do, anyway, not being temperamentally suited to the make-yourself-puke school of training. This time, having been complemented on my apparent speed (M travels a lot, and was jet-legged, hence 10 s behind), I progressively started to pile on the pressure at each repetition, knocking seconds off the watch each time. " 加油！" you might say. On the last but two reps, I started fairly steadily and was pumping all out for the last 50 yards. On the penultimate rep, I went for it with 120 yards to go. Can't. Talk. On the last one, I pretty much went for it from the beginning. These reps were all in the 1:45 area. Hey not bad. Nice jog home, shower, out for a curry in the evening.

You know when you eat loads, hot food especially, you can get uncomfy in the night? Well it wasn't that. Or had I bruised a rib? We occasionally practice push hands at home, but not with any striking, so it wasn't that. It was more like a soreness inside. Ouch. Sleeping on the other side didn't help. In the morning, the discomfort was still there, associated with a particular organ in the left side of the chest. It would exaggerating to call it pain. Is it possible to red-line a heart, bending the valves? Is it serious? Will it get better by itself?

Saturday was pretty normal, shopping and stuff. World Cup was completely unexciting, about from That Headbutt (Zinedine may have a future as a martial artist?). Lack of excitement is good. Low heartrate is good. I felt OK, but was still aware of Something Different. I cried off the Long Sunday Run, and flopped about at home. Flopped about at the office yesterday.

Today, I trekked through London to get to said colleague's place (two trains and a tube each way, which means about 3 miles of walking). I really felt as if my legs were in a different mode. Not heavy, but prevented from swiftness. It was rather an effort to get about. Normally I bound up stairs two at a time, but today there seemed to be a limit to my rate of progress. I was quite happy to bumble about in third gear. Or just to Sit Down.

Clearly something knows I need to take it easy. I'm going to check with my GP tomorrow. Meanwhile, no more running for a while.

Puffing and Panting

A big chunky week this week.

On the Mandarin front, the class's usual teacher returned from Shanghai, and we got stuck into the dialogs. As I've said before, the level is OK/a bit easy/ but it's going good. I got my iMac back from the menders, so the latest podcasts from ChinesePod are getting listened to on trains. The ChinesePod forum is lighting up a bit, and there's a few good tips coming out. One of which was a full dictionary for Palm (and other handhelds) called Pleco. I even spent real money on it! Good thing, this weak dollar!

I spent a good hour or so studying han zi yesterday, and I should be doing the same now, except ...

I'm feeling pretty wasted from this morning's run. We missed the rain that's been persisting down for the rest of the day, and didn't deliberately train that hard, but I feel like I've just done a Half. It was one the usual Munstead/Bramley loops. Would have taken the camera, being jealous of Running in Suffolk's splendid photo/running blog, except it was grey as a damp battleship.

I went down the gym on Friday (my sixty-quid a time visit!) and whizzed around the place on the bike yesterday, so I'm not suprised the batteries are low. I really can't study when I'm tired. Put the kettle on, love!