matthewduckworth41456

06/07/202110/07/2021

Back to Racing

After nearly an 18 month absence from competitive running due the the COVID-19 pandemic, on Sunday 4th July, I returned by running Gerry McCabe’s Legendary Hendon Brook Half-Marathon. The week before was quite a tentative time. As I will explain, mixed emotions and a near miss could nearly have stopped my return in its tracks! Despite this, I definitely feel I made the correct decision about which race to come back with; the challenging half-marathon has highlighted a few of my weaknesses in my current form, which has reignited my passion of training, and even the torrential downpour 10 miles in didn’t take anything away from how beautiful the route can be.

I had decided to break my tradition the week before the race and took some time to rest my legs for a few days. I ran on Monday with a reasonable amount of effort, plus a big hill, and I had an easy 3 mile run just before I watched the England match on Tuesday; I couldn’t avoid cycling to work on Wednesday and Thursday but Friday was limited to walking to the train station and an Italian restaurant – perfect for carbing up! Because of the limited exercise in the week, when I went for an easy jog on Saturday, my legs felt well rested and I felt I was in the best physical shape I could have been for the Sunday race. I think that also gave me a mental edge too; knowing that I’d done everything I could, I knew I was as ready as I could be! What I definitely didn’t plan for or want in the week before was that on Wednesday a family member that I had seen a few days prior was sent home from work with symptoms of COVID-19. I must say, thoughts weren’t instantly about the race, but when it was highlighted that there is 10 day isolation after the meeting, I did become worried about it. Thankfully, the family member had a negative test and was feeling much better by the weekend. At the end of the week, my nerves steadily increased and by Saturday afternoon I had to go for a very easy run to settle me down.

Gerry McCabe’s Legendary Hendon Brook Half-marathon

Before I go into the race itself, here is a little insight into the race and its history. In 1984, Gerry McCabe became headteacher of Hendon Brook School in Nelson, Lancashire. With lacking funding at the school, he launched the Hendon Brook Half-marathon, which is now famed due to both the alluring route over the moorland roads and the demanding eleven climbs totalling more than 2100 feet of climb. In 1985, Gerry founded The Pendle and Burnley Grand Prix: a summer series of local races, which were carefully organised on dates to avoid clashes. The series, now called Pendle & Burnley Grand Prix, has grown and prospered, and in 2017, the newer organisers decided to re-name his original race to honour his legacy.

Back to current day, or more specificity Sunday 4th July 2021 – race day! A lot of races have started with very early start times; thankfully, Hendon Brook isn’t one of those and has a comfortable 11am start time. This meant that I was able to have a reasonably large breakfast and a coffee before we had to set off to the race. I did have a short panic when I woke up at 7.40am, thinking I’d slept through my alarm and would miss the race; I hadn’t and I didn’t! After the panicked wake up, I was exited and rearing to go, but after my breakfast the nerves had kicked in. Every minute closer to the race felt excruciatingly worse than the last, I felt like a rabbit between headlights. It was brilliant to see so many friends at registration, and that helped with the nerves ,but I’m sure it took me ten minutes to pin my number on my vest and I completely forgot how to tie laces.

After all the nerves to get there, the moment I was on the start line, they all melted away; I was excited again! I felt a surge of adrenaline, my heart was racing, my airways were dilated, and my muscles had a rush of oxygen; my god, I’d missed that! That exuberance nearly got me in trouble very quickly, though, as I will explain. The race starts in grounds of Walton Lane Nursery School, previously the site of Hendon Brook School. It then descends at the edge of Marsden housing estate around Pendle Vale College before climbing up Walton Lane back to the start. In the first half mile of a mile and a half loop, I was thinking how fast the start was and how far the leaders had already raced ahead, instead of thinking where I was putting my feet and I missed coming off a pavement into the road and managed to roll my right ankle outwards! For a moment, I thought I’d ended my race prematurely with a sharp pain in my ankle which forced me to limp for a few metres. A few runners around me watched and some slowed to check that I was ok, but I insisted I was fine and to push on. It took a few strides to make sure I was actually fine but I slowed for a few seconds and got my head back in the race; by the time I was back at the start, I was running well again.

The next few miles were sensible running for me; the route follows Town House road before climbing up Barkerhouse road, locally known as ‘shooters,’ because of the Shooters Arms pub , which sits at the top of the hill. From the top of the hill, it turns south on Southfield Lane for the first water station two and a half miles in. This is the point where you get a glimpse of the beauty that is coming up: a landscape of rolling hills, drystone walls and dotted with remote farmhouses. Following Southfield Lane, it drops down into the valley where it meets Catlow Brook, and a picturesque cobbled ford with stepping stones for those trying to keep dry toes. The road changes to Robin House Lane at the ford and changes pace quickly, as it starts to climb steeply and continues steadily for three quarters of a mile; this is where I found out how difficult this was going to be and it slowed me down to a walk. At this point, I had to ‘have a word’ with myself, as the words of my coach, John Roche, sounded in my head. I shortened my stride and got going running again.

What comes next is my favourite part of the race and, in my opinion, the most stunning landscapes in Lancashire, nay, the world! Robin House Lane finishes onto Halifax Road where it has a short flat recovery before more steady incline for just short of a mile, where the route takes Ridehalgh Lane. Running down Ridehalgh Lane, I struggled to believe that anyone could dislike this; on my immediate left, there were the green pastures that make up the hill I was running down and on my right, I had a two hundred degree horizon of moorland, only disrupted by sheep, trees and gullies, that carry the bubbling brooks. I might be romanticising this a little but those views were going to get me round the next part of the race. After dropping into Thursden Valley, Ridehalgh Lane starts climbing back out of the valley and has a hairpin bend like a rollercoaster, a dip, and a steep climb out to leave you on Back Lane: the point of highest elevation in the race.

I always find the next stint of the race fairly uneventful: running Back Lane between Upper and Lower Coldwell Reservoirs, Sheffield Road and Burnley Road to Trawden is a two and a half mile distance with an aggregate decent and only adds two hundred foot on the total climb. This year’s race was no different; I was able to put a few good paced miles in while I recovered from the difficult climbs in the first half of the race. I soaked in the scenery; the one I always enjoy is after passing Coldwell, where I could see a stream of runners and supporters in front of me. On Burnley Road, I passed the eight and a half mile point and did some calculations in my head; knowing the remaining distance, I was confident that I was able to hit my target finish time of one hour and forty minutes, as long as I had no disasters on the last three substantial hills. I was reassured with my calculations after I had turned onto Colne Road in Trawden and paced the hill up to Mire Ridge with perfection. I did however make a mistake by joining with another Clayton-le-Moors Harrier running down Mire Ridge and Coal Pitt Lane at an uncomfortable pace. The quicker pace downhill made running up Carry Lane, the second of the three remaining hills, very difficult indeed – it became more of a trudge and a walk than a run, I must admit.

The next mile is the most urban part of the race, using Keighley Road, Newtown Street, West Street, Colne Lane, and Mill Green to traverse the top of Colne to The Admiral Lord Rodney, where my fan club were ready to cheer me up the last monster hill. ‘Lenches’ is the infamous last ascent in the race; it is just short of a mile. including four hundred foot of elevation and starts from the lowest point of the route back onto the moors. ‘Lenches’ is actually made up of Lenches Road and Knotts Lane, which puts you back on Southfield Lane. In most opinions, this is the hardest, steepest, and most challenging part of the race – right when everyone is flagging! This year, I had the added pleasure of attempting to run up ‘Lenches’ just when the heavens opened. I didn’t manage to run all the way this year (despite shouts of encouragement from my family!); it was more like an interval session. After the trial of ‘Lenches,’ the almost flat mile on Southfield Lane, the decent on Barkerhouse Lane, and the half a mile on Town House Road felt a breeze. I had a very small wobble on Town House Road when I slowed, but with a check of my watch, I summoned all of my remaining energy to strive to the finish in exactly my target time of one hour and forty minutes. This was by no means a personal best for me but after the year we’ve had, I can safely say that I enjoyed it all: the buzz at the start line, the support around the course, the level to which I pushed myself, and the feeling of camaraderie with other runners. This winning combination is something you just can’t get anywhere else.

So, am I glad to be back to racing? Absolutely! Can I promise that I won’t be nervous on 14th July when I tackle Widdop Fell Race? Absolutely not! Will I be on the start line for Hendon Brook in 2022? I wouldn’t miss it!

18/06/202126/06/2021

Post Pandemic Racing

Like lots of runners whose routines have changed as a result of the pandemic, I am currently contemplating my return to racing. I am just one week away from my first race since 26th January2020 and, if you’d have asked me last year how I would feel about returning to racing after seventeen months, I would quite surely have told you I would be raring to go. Why then am I feeling so daunted and nervous? I almost feel like it is my first ever race again!

In the previous 5 years, the longest time I have gone without racing is less than 4 months in 2018 but even in that lean year, I still ran 14 races; for someone who started running and wasn’t keen on the idea of Parkrun – which is a timed but non-competitive weekly 5km – because I thought it was too competitive, I had a real turnaround. Racing has definitely become a big part of my life. Pre-pandemic, most of my training was based around my big races and even in 2019, when I had a seizure which caused my shoulder to be dislocated, I was back to racing 9 days later – something I would not recommend, but I will explain why in a future post.

When it came to 2020, I hadn’t made any solid plans for races. In January, I ran a Mid Lancs league cross country with my club, Clayton-le-Moors Harriers, and I ran the St. Aiden’s RSPB Winter Beast in January, but I had no expectation on the year’s racing stopping there! I know that many people entered virtual races last year but it wasn’t for me; a big part of racing for me is the carnival-like atmosphere, seeing lots of my friends, and a sprint finish to the end! Something about solo virtual racing just didn’t quite hold the same appeal for me, and I was so eager to return to the excitement of scheduled events. So, back to my current state of nervousness…

I’m not entirely sure what is bothering me about going back to racing, I just know that every time I think about it I feel I have a knot in my stomach; excitement could be part of it and I’m sure it is in the mix but I’ve been excited for most of my big races and it’s definitely not the same. One thing that creeps into my mind is, “Will it be as good as I can remember?” Or, maybe because of the current restrictions, I am questioning, “Will it be as much fun?” The pre and post race socialising was part of the experience but I’d imagine that is going to be very different. The last thing I want is for a race experience to dampen my love of running. Logically, I know that this is nonsense; I have still enjoyed running for the last seventeen months, and I enjoyed running before I ever entered into the world of racing! I have to say that performance is playing on my mind as well; the distance doesn’t bother me as I’ve been running 12-14 miles in a single run most weeks this year, but the hills do! I haven’t been training on hills as often, and my lack of speed work worries me too. I understand that both hill work and speed work are under my control, but I need the motivation to do those and, ironically, I think a race will help with that motivation. So, how can I break the cycle?

Well, not one to shy away from a challenge, I have booked onto Gerry McCabe’s Legendary Hendon Brook Race; a race that most who have ran would call a ‘monster’ of a half-marathon. Although it is unofficially titled ‘The Uk’s toughest half-marathon,’ for me, its also one of my favourites and that’s why I’ve picked it. I’m hoping to give a post race review afterwards and I’ll give a fresh route description for those who haven’t had the pleasure to run the route. For now, I’ll leave it by saying that it is a hilly but beautiful race over the moors in east Lancashire and it’s a must-do for anybody who loves running with a view!

Life has been far from normal for me during the pandemic and I think most other people have found it very difficult, but we are hopefully now getting somewhere close to normality. It might be a slow change, not like the overnight change we felt when it began, but it’s getting there. The things that made us happy before are starting coming back and I’m nervous about doing something that made me so joyous before, but I’m also hopeful about the future. I’m hopeful, too, that by sharing my thoughts I can help others to rekindle their own loves which have been put on one side during the pandemic, whether it is racing, running Parkrun, or a celebratory, sweaty-vested hug with a loved one after an event!

13/06/2021

Running with Epilepsy

It stands to reason that, in a blog called ‘Running with Epilepsy,’ at some stage, I would need to write about the very first time that I ever ran with epilepsy. I’ve found this very difficult to start as I can’t really remember how I felt on my first run. Also, it was more than 5 years and 11,000 miles ago -a lot has happened since then! I know that the start of my running career is a very unique story, different to most runners because of the epilepsy and probably different to others with epilepsy because of the eighteen months before I even considered running; more about that later though. I’ve tried my best to find the actual date that I started but it’s evading me; it was at some point in June 2014 and it was instigated by trying to getting back into weight training, which was causing more problems with my epilepsy.

Prior to the car crash in 2009 (you can read about this in my first post, The Beginning), I would say I was reasonably fit: less cardio-vascular fit as I am now but I was more into strength and conditioning fitness. As I had previously planned on being in the police force, I probably thought that was important. In 2014, I’d decided to rekindle the fun of strength training, however my family realised – more quickly than I did – that the training that I did in my youth wasn’t working well with my health conditions. Knowing a lot more about strength and conditioning training now, I believe that it wasn’t the training itself that was the problem; it was more how I was doing it. When I had trained before, I wasn’t correctly engaging my core; I was using chest cavity pressure to lift, meaning that I wasn’t able to take a proper breath. This style of lifting can be used safely, for example when completing single lifts, but when used repetitively, it can cause a rise in blood pressure – definitely not great for those with Epilepsy.

I soon started looking for a safe way of training to increase my fitness without hampering my health and I found that some people in my position had tried running and reported that it hadn’t aggravated their Epilepsy – great news! I had some experience running: school cross country in primary and secondary school – with little success! I can remember running at interschool cross countries in secondary school and finishing in last place. At later stages at school, I had more success at sprint races but by that stage I was more academically minded. These memories from running at school were happy ones but they were still memories of my physical inadequacy, and I later managed to banish these by finding another physical outlet in strength and conditioning fitness. I’d need to conquer that fear of being the slowest if I was to be able to enjoy keeping fit in a way that worked with my epilepsy.

When I finally decided to try running, it had to be under my terms. By 2014, I had found some level of independence and wasn’t happy to give that up so I insisted that I was going to do it I would run from home without relying on transport or lifts from family and friends. At the time, however, home was part way up a substantial hill and my first run was either starting or finishing with a hill; I went for the starting with a hill (more about my enduring love of hills later!). Running a 1-kilometre hill with a 100 metre climb probably isn’t the place for most people to start running, but that’s exactly what I started with. I wanted a place I knew well and probably an excuse for why it went so badly (assuming that it would). I made a 4-kilometre route from my front door, I told my family where I was going, and I went with my phone, partly to track my run but more for the security of ringing somebody if the worst was to happen. In the interests of being totally honest, I also deliberately chose a route which was somewhat ‘out of the way,’ fearing that I might need to stop and walk, and not wanting to feel embarrassed if I did. Thankfully my first run went very well; I didn’t need the excuse of the hill and I only needed my phone to track my run (much to the relief of my family, who had anxiously waited at home). I even really enjoyed the challenge the hill gave me, and I continued to run the same route and a few other routes that I created, all from my front door, but none as long as that first run – it was long enough for now!

Just a few weeks later, on Saturday 28^th June 2014, I was about to make an exciting discovery, and one which would change my life! I had gone for an early morning walk with my mum and our dog Bruce at Towneley Park and as we were walking, we saw there were markers and direction signs around the route. I knew that there was a charity Race for Life event on the following day, as my mum and her friend had entered, and I remember stating ‘they must be setting up for your run tomorrow’ – how little I knew! I later found out that the set up wasn’t for the Race for Life event at all; my mum’s friend told her that it was the set up for Burnley’s weekly Parkrun: a timed 5K run that happens every Saturday morning at 9am. My mum quickly encouraged me to take part the next weekend, stating that she’d walk with Bruce around other parts of the park while I ran. I wasn’t keen on the idea of running and competing with others, at first, but I gave it a go and typically, my mum knew best. Parkrun events are proudly non-competitive, and I found myself feeling completely welcome. I even faired a lot better than I expected, so much so that I returned the weekend after, and it soon became a regular occurrence.

The regular Parkruns really helped me with confidence and because the parkrun is timed, I was able to see how well I was progressing, which gave me the confidence to enter to my first race. It wasn’t until February 2015, but it was 10k so I needed a bit of time to work up to the distance too! After a few months, I was approached by Steve, who runs with Clayton-le-Moors Harriers, who invited me to a training session with the club. I must say, it took me a few more weeks to pluck up the courage to try – and Steve did prompt me once or twice, even helpfully suggesting that I could call the coach John Roche to let him know that I would be coming along. I found that useful, and I was able to have a conversation about my health conditions, which made me more comfortable about attending. I’d soon learn that John Roche isn’t famed for keeping runners in their comfort zone, and the next few months were when my running really stepped up.

This is where I usually leave this story, stating that ‘the rest is history…’ but this story wouldn’t be complete without a very special mention…

In September 2012, a few years before I started running, our family welcomed its newest member… Bruce, an English Springer Spaniel. I took on the role to train and teach Bruce how to behave and a few simple tricks, and in turn Bruce helped me gain back some of my self-confidence and I gradually became a bit more outgoing. Before Bruce, my mum and I had started getting into walking, hiking up Pendle hill bi-monthly and tackling more challenging walks when we could. Bruce’s arrival meant that these walks became daily long walks, and although I wouldn’t know it at the time, the eighteen months that followed were exactly what I needed to give me the confidence to run on my own. At first, Bruce and I walked to our local parks and longer walks when we had company. As time progressed, however, we were both ready to tackle longer and more challenging walks and even when we didn’t have the security of another person to walk with, I was able to set up my phone as beacon. If I didn’t get home as I was expected, I could be easily located and, having seen how well Bruce had behaved when I had seizures, I felt comfortable to stray a little further from home. In the next eighteen months, we became the best of walking partners, and we covered some real distance, managing to walk up to 6 miles from home on some pretty remote paths. Were it not for the arrival of Bruce, I might never have had the confidence to take up running as I did and it is impossible to imagine what the past 10 years might have been like without him. Before I am accused of dumping my walking partner, I also want to add that he quickly became my running partner, especially when it came to exploring the many beautiful and scenic local trails! Thank you, Bruce!

03/06/202129/06/2021

The Beginning

The fated date that changed my life: 13^th December 2009, or possibly the 14^th, depending on what counts as the event. I wouldn’t know for weeks anyway. What matters is, I went out for an evening drive on 13^th, and I woke up in hospital a week or so later with a partially scarred and shaved head. This part of the story is very hazy for me; I don’t know what I can remember, what I was told or what I imagined, so I can only try my best.

I think I realised quite quickly that I wasn’t making any sense to my family, my nurses and my doctors. What I wasn’t quick enough to understand was why I was having to wear padded mittens fastened with Velcro and tape. I am told that, even in the early days when I was barely conscious, I was able to fight off the fastening that usually holds these gloves together. I’m pretty proud of that stubbornness, and it put me in good stead in the upcoming months and years. One memory of those ‘mittened’ days that I know isn’t mine is every time my family came to visit, I would instinctively hold my hands up to have the mittens removed – something that still tickles me. I now know that these mittens were to stop me removing tubes which were literally saving my life.

I think I’m getting a little ahead of myself here though. The reason I woke up in the state I did is because in the early hours of the 14^th I managed to attack a tree with the back end of my car. Thankfully, I had just got a reasonably new Clio which had a really good safety rating. Not even the most robust safety rating was enough on this occasion and the seat collapsed, throwing me into the back seats. In the transition from the front seat to the back seats I sustained a depressed skull fracture and an intracranial hematoma (a bleed on the brain) from the impact inside the car.

The circumstances of how I crashed are unknown (icy roads and swerving to avoid a deer are some of the theories which have been suggested since), and I have no memory of the event, but it turns out that luck was on my side. Despite being driving in the early hours on a quiet road, I was found by another driver and emergency services were quickly on the scene; because of this, I was given a lifeline. I was rushed to the local accident and emergency in an ambulance where I was assessed and, due to the injury, I was transferred to Royal Preston Hospital where they had the specialists needed to work on the injury. The injury was quite substantial on the left side of my head and to find the bleeds and clean the fracture meant on a long time in surgery. Surgeons performed a decompressive craniectomy – a removal of my skull, to be replaced with a plate at a later date. Due to the massive brain injury, doctors induced a coma to allow recovery and put me on my first set of anti-convulsion drugs; a thing that has had to become part of my everyday life.

After 10 days in the induced coma the decision was made to ‘wake’ me up; I have very little recollection, but I was later told that when my family visited me on the 25^th, I made the first sign of recognition – poking my mum’s nose, as I had done for years as an annoying teenager. Apparently, that made quite the Christmas present. I have fragments of memories of the first week and I have some souvenirs, such as the mittens and a set of the compression socks from when I was bed bound; but I think my first solid memory was probably in the new year when I had a visit from a speech therapist. This visit wasn’t so much helping my speech as an assessment to see how much damage there was; I can remember being shown flashcards of everyday objects and being asked if I knew what they were called and if I knew what they did. I found it very distressing that I couldn’t remember some of the words but was told that it was good that I knew what they did, for example I was shown a watch; I couldn’t find the word ‘watch’ but I knew it was about telling the time. All of this was made more difficult by that fact I couldn’t form eligible words. From my recall and from my own research, I know that I had Global Aphasia and over the next few days it recovered to Broca’s Aphasia (a less severe form, which affects speech but not understanding).

Despite the massive head injury, I didn’t have any other physical injuries and I believe that was a big part of my swift recovery. My family had realised very quickly the care that was needed, for my mental recovery more than anything, was not available in hospital. What I needed was mental stimulation – and a lot more than short daily visits from a speech therapist and evening visits from family. My doctors apparently weren’t sure if I would be able to walk due to the brain injury. This was conveyed to the ward nurses however nobody had told me about this, so the night team were very surprised and probably worried to find my bed empty in the middle of the night when I had decided to take myself to the toilet! I wonder now if I’d been told I might not be able to walk, if this would have become a fulfilling prophecy, but I doubt I’ll ever know. After proving that I was able to walk, there was then the issue of who would provide my full-time care once I returned home. Thankfully, my family came together to fix the issue and make my recovery possible. By sheer luck and coincidence, my gran had recently retired and was able to help with my care. With that and my mum’s ability to become part time for four months, they made a plan to cover my full-time care.

Leaving Hospital

Before I was able to leave hospital, a social care team had to visit the home that I would be going back to; they did insist that the pullup bar I had up in my doorway had to go, though – apparently head height obstructions are ‘a no, no’ for people with approximately 30% of their skull missing! The same social care team had to visit me in hospital to make sure I would be able to make it up and down the stairs at home. I took this challenge with gusto and even started taking the stairs two at a time, something which was asked to stop very quickly. Checks complete, I was finally able to go back home with my family on 7^th January 2010: a very short period, considering the injury, but a distressing time for me without the ability to converse. The whole experience in hospital has left me with an uneasy feeling every time I now visit a hospital, but I am immensely grateful to the staff who cared for me and will continue to be each time I visit. On the trip home I made my first step to my mental recovery by saying my first word; we were driving into a new speed limit zone, and I said ‘thirty’ (just in case my Mum had forgotten). Thankfully, my mum recovered quickly from this shock, and I made it home to see my grandparents and sisters.

Here’s where the real road to recovery began (pun intended).