Day 90 – The Battle of the Back

Running Through the Ache

Another day, another run, another quiet mutiny from my lower back. I knew today wasn’t going to be a heroic effort, but determination outranks comfort when it comes to marathon training. I’ve done my research and as long as the pain isn’t making me see my ancestors or forcing me to adopt a new and permanent sideways gait, I can keep going.

I set off with a plan—nothing too ambitious, just a steady run to keep my legs moving and my training ticking over. The first half wasn’t too bad, though I could feel the ever-present stiffness lurking in the background like an officious administrator waiting for an opportunity to hand me some very inconvenient paperwork. But by the time I reached the second half, my back decided it had quite enough of this nonsense and staged a small but effective rebellion. Every stride felt a little heavier, every movement required more thought than it should and the idea of stopping became increasingly appealing.

Still, I pressed on. Not quickly, not smoothly, but persistently. I made it back to The Math School some 35 minutes after I had started—aching, tired, but still moving. And in marathon training, sometimes that’s all that matters.

Teaching on Voltarol and Sheer Stubbornness

If running was a struggle, the rest of the day was an uphill battle with a grand piano strapped to my back. My lower back took personal offence to my continued existence and made its displeasure known at every opportunity. Sitting down wasn’t comfortable, standing up wasn’t comfortable, and walking between lessons felt like trying to impersonate a normal human while my spine composed an angry letter to the management.

With a full day of teaching ahead of me and no option to theatrically collapse onto a fainting couch, I turned to Voltarol for support. It didn’t work miracles, but it took the edge off just enough to get me through. Even so, it was one of those days where every movement required planning—how to sit, how to stand, how to not accidentally yelp in front of a room full of students. By the time the school day ended, I was ready to embrace any remedy available.

Once home, I retreated to my new sanctuary—the bath. Hot water and sheer hope were my best options for loosening the tightness, and for a little while, I could almost pretend my back wasn’t plotting against me. If the London Marathon had a segment where runners could submerge themselves in hot water mid-race, I’d be signing up for that immediately. But for now, it’s just me, the bath, and the faint hope that my muscles might actually start cooperating before race day.

Four Weeks and Counting
The lack of high aerobic activity is starting to weigh on me. Fitness feels like one of those ancient cities where if you stop maintaining the walls for even a moment, they crumble with dramatic inevitability. I know logically that a few weeks of lower-intensity work won’t erase months of training, but logic and anxiety rarely see eye to eye. The nagging worry that I’ll lose too much fitness before race day is hard to ignore.

But I also know that the worst thing I could do is push too hard, too soon. A back injury is one of those things that can go from irritating to catastrophic with alarming speed, and if I make the wrong move, I could be forced off my feet entirely. That would be far worse than a few underwhelming training runs.

So, patience. Each day as it comes. Push when I can. Hold back when I must. Four and a bit weeks to go, and if my back and I can come to an agreement, we might just make it to the start line in one piece.