Month: March 2016

The Body Battleground

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Another day, another stupid effing “challenge” on social media where people show how skinny they are by holding up a piece of A4 paper in front of their waists. If your waist disappears behind the piece of paper when you hold it portrait in front of your torso, congratulations, you’ve passed the challenge.

Sigh.

Sometimes I really, truly despair.

A4 Waist

CREDIT: IMAGINECHINA/REX/SHUTTERSTOCK

This is yet another fad (after the “Belly Button Challenge” and “Clavicle Challenge”) to emerge out of China, and it’s come at a time where yet again there seems to be a lot of unreasonable focus on women and their bodies and reputations (because the focus is more on women as the above photo shows – good luck finding the guy whose self worth is valued by how he looks in a crop top).

Take for example the recent furore around Star Wars actress Daisy Ridley, when the following image was posted to Instagram:

Daisy Ridley

When I first heard about this I was genuinely confused by the whole thing. I have never viewed Daisy as having an unrealistic body type. Since when did being strong and fit become something people viewed as a bad example? Understandably Daisy felt somewhat attacked about the whole thing and felt she had to defend herself online. A little further digging on the matter showed that the image had been lifted from a satirical cartoon strip and been taken completely out of context. But satire exists to mock and ridicule wider issues in society – and how often has the “real women have curves” argument been thrown across the body battleground? All women are real, regardless of shape and size. It really is very, VERY simple.

Lastly, on a slightly different topic, we’ve had Maria Sharapova come out and admit that she tested positive for Meldonium, a drug that was added to the banned list on the 1st January this year. Whether she cheated by knowingly taking a banned substance or whether she showed negligence by taking it without knowing it had been banned, her reputation and career are currently in a bad way. The thing that has struck me about her case though, is Nike’s attitude to it. Don’t get me wrong – if one of your athletes has taken a banned, performance enhancing substance, by all means you should walk away from them.

So how does that explain their relationship with Justin Gatlin? What gives Nike? Gatlin has been completely unrepentant about his past transgressions, so why one rule for the male athlete and another for the female?

This has been a bit of a brain dump of a post so far. I think I’ve just felt so frustrated by the media in the last few weeks (which is nothing new really) and the way there is ALWAYS so much focus on how women look. When Chris Hemsworth beefs up for the Thor films, do you ever hear even a sniff of “what a terrible example! I can’t live up to that!”? Or does everyone gape in awe at his commitment to lifting weights and chugging protein shakes?

Thor

I don’t know. Maybe I’m part of the problem by even talking about these things in the first place. Or maybe I’m just too idealistic by wanting women to be valued by their achievements rather than their looks. But is it really too much to ask for the Women’s Varsity Rugby Match to be shown on BBC2 like the men’s was rather than online only (especially as Cambridge’s thrashing of Oxford led to a incredibly exciting match)? Or to focus more on women like Gee Purdy, Bella Collins, Lauren Morton and Olivia Bolesworth who became the youngest and fastest all female crew of four to row across the Atlantic Ocean? Or Paralympian Jordanne Whiley, who has 7 grand slam tennis victories under her belt? These are the things we should be sharing on social media, not the utter, UTTER bollocks that makes young girls think that the size of their waist is all that matters, or that men will always be treated differently in the same scenario. That has to change.

Although when a search for “smart female sportswomen” comes up with this as the top three hits – I have to wonder if it’s too big a battle:

Smart Female Sportswomen

Eff you internet. I may only be a tiny blogger who can only really rely on my mum reading every single post I write (love you!) but I’m still going to play my part by always celebrating inspirational sportswomen whose minds and bodies are leading them to achieve greatness.

 

The Wimpole Night Run aka A Comedy of Errors – My Review

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Oh the Wimpole Night Run. Where oh where do I begin? If you’re looking for a race that’s fun and messy in more ways than one, you’ve come to the right place.

I first heard about the National Trust Night Run series last year, and I got so excited when I heard that there was going to be one locally at Wimpole Hall (already home to a parkrun) which is only around a 45 minute drive from me. When I found out that they’d organised the run for the night before the 2015 Cambridge Half Marathon I did wonder who had done their research and was frustrated that I’d have to miss out. Having now been to their 2016 Night Run, I’m beginning to think that organisation is perhaps not their strong point…..

When Rachel and I first turned up at Wimpole (along with Pete, designated driver and cheerleader), we knew that it was likely to be a pretty muddy run, due to a ton of rain midweek and the fact that a parkrun had happened earlier that day. But that’s ok – cross country involves mud a lot of the time, so I rocked up in trail trainers and felt prepared for that at least. The registration was also pain free (except for the deafening volume of the music) so after picking up our race numbers we pinned them on and were ready to go.

We were pretty bemused to see that they hadn’t made an effort to get in some extra toilets as we joined the usual mammoth queue for the ladies’. Wimpole only has three toilets in the main ones by the entrance which has always surprised me from a visitor point of view, let alone when there are a few hundred runners milling around (190 of them female according to the results). But still, we had 40 minutes to kill before the race started so what’s a queue eh?

After we’d loaded ourselves up with glow sticks and found the courage we needed to discard our woolly hats and layers, Rachel and I then headed off to the start while Pete went in search of a hot drink. And you’d think that the big inflatable gantry with the words “START” on it would be where we should go. But alas that was not the case, and so began the comedy of errors that was the Wimpole Night Run.

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When we’d finally been herded to the actual start (two sorry looking pink flags), we didn’t have even the smallest of scoobies as to what was going on because we simply couldn’t hear the announcer. Luckily someone near the back of the crowd obviously got wind of what was happening because like a Mexican Wave a countdown rolled down to the front and we managed to join in from about 7 down to 1. And then we were off.

And boy was it dark. The visibility from our head torches (mine being slightly more useful than Rachel’s one from Sports Direct but my sweaty forehead meant it refused to stay pointing in the right direction) was sketchy at best, and the only sign that a massive section of bog was coming was the squelch from the runners in front of us. At about 1k in we ran through a pair of gates with a particularly marshy section, and after the two of us had waded through it we heard a cry of “my trainer!” come from the gloom behind us as one unfortunate runner had a shoe sucked off their foot, leaving us to wonder if we’d tied our laces tightly enough!

When it came to the marshals, we made sure to thank every one we ran past (it was freezing!), but it seemed that there was no consistency in their dress (some in high vis, some in dark clothing) or whether or not they had torches to help direct us. And since the signage around the course often consisted of a single glow stick attached to a random tree, it was sometimes nearly impossible to see where you were going, especially as the number of runners thinned out in the second half of the run. When a marshal said “go that way!” we quickly responded with “WHICH WAY?!!” because funnily enough, a hand gesture can be hard to see in the almost pitch black. And as for the marshal who was sat on the ground on her phone…….

There were numerous moments when Rachel and I thought we were going to faceplant in the mud, and how Rach stayed upright on one particular corner I’ll never know. Her recovery skills were immense. And somewhere around the 6k mark (I’m guessing here, since if there were any distance markers we didn’t blooming see them), there was a massive pit on our left that we saw at the last minute. I’m not sure what it was (it had concrete sides) but I am gobsmacked that they didn’t think to mark it up as a hazard to avoid. It was a health and safety nightmare.

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When we finally saw the lights that indicated that the finish was in sight, the two of powered to the line, finishing no more than a second behind the couple in front of us. Sadly there was no funnel or funnel manager in sight, so when they stopped to hug we pretty much barrelled into them as there was no one to move them on. There was then a plethora of people handing out bags, medals and water bottles, with no one keeping supporters back from the finish. Why they didn’t think to put the medals and water IN the bags (which contained little more than material on the National Trust, a Cotswold water bottle, and a leaflet on how to run – a little late there guys) I’ll never know. And even though neither of us were running for a particular time, it was a little frustrating to see that I was recorded as being 4 seconds behind the couple in front of us with Rach another 4 seconds behind me – we crossed together! I know it’s not chip timed but the human eye should do better than that.

Now I know it sounds like I’ve been a bit negative about this run, but it’s more of an opportunity for me to provide feedback on what is still a very new race. And I would run it again. It’s mental, and ridiculous and totally haphazard, but I don’t think I’ll ever forget the sight of looking over my shoulder and seeing all those lights bobbing along behind me. Plus the medal is pretty nice. I just hope that maybe they neaten up their processes a bit more next year, get all of their marshals on the same page (high vis or no high vis, torches or no torches?) and make sure the finish is a bit more coherent. Plus a snack in the goody bag wouldn’t have gone amiss!

 

 

 

 

 

Pilatesfit – A Haven in Our Busy City

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When I was contacted by Rowan from Pilatesfit on Twitter with the opportunity to try one of their classes*, I leapt at the chance. Even though Vinery Road is a bit of a trek from where I work, it’s nice and close to Cambridge train station which is a bonus. As I’ve only done a handful of Pilates classes in my time (I’m more of a yoga girl generally) I booked in for a Beginner’s Class with Michelle Njagi on Friday 11th March at 6:15pm. It seemed like a good opportunity to end my stressful week on a relaxing high.

I have to say that a rather fraught journey up Mill Road meant that I wasn’t feeling especially chilled when I finally reached the Pilatesfit Studios. I thought everyone escaped early on a Friday but clearly no one has told the irate road users congregated in this part of Cambridge (slow hand clap to the cyclists who think it’s ok to mount the pavements and scatter pedestrians to get through it). And when I found the Studios I wasn’t completely convinced that I had actually found them, but the road numbering suggested I had.

When I first opened the gate and saw a large dog walking into a door on the left I was a bit worried I had walked into someone’s front garden (a common mistake on a first visit Rowan assured me) but to be fair, that kind of is what you’re doing (and signage outside is coming soon!). To give you a bit of background, the founder Rowan has worked as a Physiotherapist in Cambridge for about 17 years, and then started Pilatesfit about 2 years ago. After word of mouth meant that the popularity of her classes grew, she then opened the Vinery Road studio next to her home a year ago.

PilatesFit1

The Studios themselves are stunning. They’re all white walls, high ceilings and gentle lighting, and you can tell they’ve been designed with serenity and simplicity in mind. The lovely thing about Pilatesfit is that their classes are for a maximum of 8 people at a time. This means that the instructor is able to check on each attendee individually during the class, advising on and correcting their form where necessary.

As for my experience in the class, at first I thought “Pffft, this is easy. I am totally nailing this. I should have gone for the intermediate class.” This self-confidence lasted about 10 minutes, and was all but shattered by the time Michelle had me doing glute bridges on a foam roller.

PilatesFit3

Michelle (on purple mat) in action. Photo from VineryRoadStudios on Instagram

Despite being in a fairly busy part of the city, what little noise from the outside world that managed to sneak in was quickly drowned out by the perfect background music to the class and Michelle’s gorgeous, soothing voice (she should do audio books on meditation. I would totally buy them). I found myself feeling so relaxed, which is not a state I’ve been in much recently. Don’t get me wrong – I worked hard, and my glutes and especially my hamstrings felt like they’d had a serious workout the next day, but I felt like I was able to drown out all of that outside crap that has been clamouring for attention in my head recently, and just be.

At the end of the class Michelle took her time to have a chat with me (despite having only 15 minutes before her next class started) and she also told me that I’d done really well and that she could tell I was strong. This girl had already sussed the way to my heart.

Now – down to the nitty gritty. Pilates classes at Pilatesfit are on the pricier end of the scale at £9 a pop. But you are getting more for your money compared to say a Pilates class that takes 20 people. You get one-on-one attention from the instructor during the class, and this is invaluable if you’re like me and struggle to get your ribs aligned properly or you find yourself holding your breath during more challenging poses, which makes them far more difficult. I suppose it depends on what you want from your Pilates class. They also let you pay as you go, which is a bonus when many Pilates classes in the city are based on a course of classes which you pay for in advance regardless of whether you can make every session.

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Would I pay for these classes? The answer is a resounding yes. While I can’t afford to go all the time (at least not without reining in my Sweaty Betty addiction), I’m going to treat myself to a class at least once a month, because I got so much more out of it than just an ab workout. It’s impossible not to relax and centre yourself in a class at the Pilatesfit studio. They’ve just done everything so well.

Rowan is also doing a great job of building a strong community around Pilatesfit, with a great social media presence, and a gorgeous Instagram feed. They also offer more than just the classes –  they do 1:1 Pilates and antenatal sessions, as well as offering private physiotherapy, including sports injury treatments such as kinesiotaping, ultrasound, acupuncture, massage and sports specific rehab. They are also the only Physiotherapy clinic in Cambridge where all the physiotherapists are also trained to teach Pilates. They have so much to offer, and I think they’re a really great addition to the Fitness scene in Cambridge.

* When offering me the free class, Rowan never asked me to blog about it, but I have chosen to do so.

Looking for Rainbows and Stars – An Athlete’s Analogy

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So here’s a summary of my health so far in 2016:

  • Death cold from hell
  • Eye infection
  • Mild groin pull
  • Allergic reaction to medicine
  • Bad back
  • Locked joint in foot
  • Hit by a car and knocked off my bike
  • General despondent attitude

Looking back over this, that seems like a lot in the space of 2 months. I’m just going to wait here while you all send me vast amounts of sympathy.

Waiting 3

No? Ok then.

As someone who had only taken 1 sick day in 2 1/2 years (yes, that is a humble brag. I was properly proud of that) having this start to 2016 has seriously knocked me, not just physically but mentally as well (and this was before I made friends with concrete, which only happened yesterday after I’d started writing this post).

I don’t know about you, but I use running to cope with my stress. If I’m having a bad day, a 30 minute run in my lunch break can work absolute wonders. So that fact that I haven’t been able to properly get my teeth into my training at all yet in 2016 means that my stress has been building. But I can’t run to get rid of it. I hate not being able to run. So then the stress builds some more. But I can’t run……… So round and round we go like a dog chasing its tail, except that it’s way less entertaining for those around me.

Stress 1

So what’s a girl(runninglate) to do? I can either wallow in my bad luck, or I can just accept that quite simply, this is life. Who said it would always be plain sailing? Admittedly I’ve had an abnormal run of fails, but as one awesome runner liked to say, “when it rains, look for rainbows. When it’s dark, look for the stars.” I know in other circumstances this could sound like cheesy inspo you’d expect to find on Instagram, but it couldn’t be more fitting right now.

When I dropped out of the half, my brilliant friend Alice sent me a link to an article about Jessica Ennis when she had to drop out of the Beijing Olympics with a fracture in her right ankle. I imagine that making a decision like that is approximately 1000 times worse than having to drop out of a local half marathon. But look at what she has since gone on to achieve. Injury is part and parcel of being an athlete. It’s how you deal with the setbacks that shows how strong you really are.

And yes. I now consider myself an athlete. I never used to call myself that before despite the fact that Alan always has done. I just thought of myself as a runner. It was only at one of my many recent trips to Spritely Osteopathy that I called myself an athlete and Melissa picked up on it. The conversation went something like this:

“You called yourself an athlete.”

“Huh. So I did.”

“Good. You are.”

This short exchange showed a shift in the way I see myself, and it gave me a little boost during what has been a difficult time. It’s not much, but the little things count.

So I’m going to focus on how lucky I am to walk away from being hit by a car (my brother called me a double-hard bastard which is one of the best compliments I’ve ever received) and focus on the future. Anytime I can’t run I’ll work on my pull ups. If my legs need some rest I’ll go for a swim. If I need some downtime, I’ll do some yoga. Plus I’m going to dust off my Headspace app and set aside 10 minutes a day to get some more Yin in my life (because all this Yang cannot be good for me – thanks to Sigrist Acupuncture for the brilliant talk on Chinese medicine earlier this week)! There will always be options.

Enough of all this. I’m going to go and look at the stars. Bugger off clouds.

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