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2018 Season: Part 2
Realize that I’ve been muddling my terminology. Low drop does not always mean thin soled. This running business can get confusing if you start to think about it too much…
So, those weird Hoka shoes that I saw being worn at the Alto Sil race were actually low drop ones. Although they are blessed with significant cushioning there is very little difference in height between heel and toe. Forgive me for not paying attention these last 5 year but when it comes to drop that, it seems, is where it’s at!
Hokas are in fact low drop shoes which take you high off the ground and this, as MLCM correctly pointed out about a month ago, should lead to less stability and ankle wrecking disaster on the rocky ground. I can only suppose that the likes of Jim Walmsey can make up ground on the less technical terrain where his bouncy Hoka-propelled stride and the running technique of a thoroughbred leave the pure mountain runners trailing way behind.
Just wanted to get that little clarification out of the way. In my own case it’s clear that thin soled and close to the ground help me avoid nasty ankle sprains and give me control and confidence on descents. The flip side is that over time I started to notice previously undetected aches and pains in knees and ankles which given the age factor was only to be expected.
Anyway, the year 2018 started well and the knee ache seemed to disappear. But then the ankles started complaining. First it was the left one and then the right. Initially I blamed the Futsal and stopped playing. Then I blamed the shoes and splashed out some serious cash on a pair of Inov Roclite 305 with slightly more cushioning. Wore them for the Alto Sil, they felt great and this seemed to be the answer. But I also started twisting my ankles again.
Attempted 2 races in April. The first one took me by surprise and the second one ended painfully.
April 8th Pajariel Trail.
This was the most convenient race I’ve ever run. Only had to roll out of bed, saunter downstairs and walk 50 yards to the start/finish line.
There have been several attempts to organize races on Pajariel over the years but never with any real continuity. I think I ran the last one which was a curious uphill only time-trial 4 years ago. The lung busting 300m vertical ascent took me 19 minutes! The new route would treble that height gain but this time over a more “undulating” 15 kilometres circular.
Must say that the route took me by surprise. We climbed Pajariel up its more familiar northern flank and then ran along single track trails on the other side which I realized I’d never truly explored before. Much of the route went through pine plantations and the paths had been customized by crazy downhill bikers with fearsome wooden ramps pointing to oblivion.
The race was much harder than expected and I felt tired and weary at the end, even more so than after the Alto Sil. 2 hours 37 minutes says it all. It felt like an English fell race in terms of gradients but without the grass!
April 22nd La Tebaida Berciana.
This is another race where I have a streak, 10 in a row since the first edition in 2008. The streak ended this year in strange circumstances. I’d got through the 2 main climbs and was feeling comfortable past the halfway point. Hopped across a familiar stream choosing some strategically placed rocks which I knew better than some members of my own family. Another guy was struggling to find a suitable place to cross and as I smugly flew past he smiled and shouted “Un corzo!” (A deer!) This is an area where there are a lot of deer although they are normally quite shy. Not surprising really as most humans they come in contact with try to shoot them. In this case though, I was the deer the fellow was referring to. Not realizing he was joking, I had instinctively looked up to the mountain to my left in search of Bambi and just took my eyes off the ground at the wrong moment.
The end result was a very nasty twist to my right ankle. There was a searing pain and I shouted and pulled up sharply. The guy who had shouted “deer” stopped too. He said he’d heard a snapping noise and looked horrified when I said I was going to try and walk it off. Then I said I was going to shove the deer up his arse. Well, I didn’t actually use those words but the guy didn’t hang around either. Hobbled, cursed, tried to run and then hobbled again as the dozen or so runners I had behind me overtook. Dangled the injured limb into the next icy stream for a minute or so but the hobbling continued. The next feeding station was serving cold beer and freshly cut jamon but I felt like neither. I really must have been in a bad way. Struggled on for another 2 or 3 kms of descent but I felt the swelling extend up my leg towards my head and decided that it was time to stop. Reached a section of road and found a car going back up in the direction of the start/finish line. Thus ended my Tebaida Berciana streak and potentially the rest of the running season.
To be continued….
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