The Superhero Effect

I used to run. I even did two 10-mile runs and raised some pretty decent amounts of money by doing it. Then, in 2009, my back began telling me something was wrong, but I was too involved in my career to hear it. I was too focused in worrying and stressing out over things that really didn’t matter: work, money, work again, less money, more work, slightly more money, more work, and more stress. Finally, in summer 2010 I had to stop. After several trips to the emergency room, countless medical tests, my back gave me a big fat “I told you so” and I had to quit my job.

During the last 3 years, I’ve encountered many back specialists, therapists of all kinds, I have tried several treatments, heard different diagnoses, have had my body scanned left, right and centre. I started doing Pilates – which meant I could do things like walking my dog, or even riding a bike now and then. The only thing that was certain, was that I couldn’t run, or jump, or stand for more than a couple of hours. It turned out I also couldn’t really sit for a few hours either, so again, I lost a second job.

The human brain is a curious thing. When someone tells you that you can’t do something, then you really want to do it.

Even when I could run, I really didn’t get it completely. I just did it for charity, because I could, because it was good for me…but not because I wanted to. I used to wonder when running outside, “why am I running? No one is chasing me! This hurts!” Then at the gym, at the treadmill, I felt like a lycra-clad hamster. However, when back therapists and doctors told me that running may never be in the cards for me, that’s when it really hit me. And it hit me in the form of anxiety, depression and A LOT of rage.

Then one day, I watched Eddie Izzard’s Believe, a documentary on his life and his pursuit of many goals, including his career.

“You’ve got to believe you can be a standup before you can be a standup.
You have to believe you can act before you can act.
You have to believe you can be an astronaut
before you can be an astronaut. You’ve got to believe.”

The brilliant Eddie Izzard is a hugely successful comedian, an actor, and now, also a runner.  I watched in awe while he ran 43 marathons in 51 days around the UK. Recently I watched how he attempted to run 27 marathons in 27 days, as a tribute to Nelson Mandela. He didn’t manage to complete this challenge because, basically, his body told him to f*ck off.

Which is, really, what tends to happen when you are convinced you can do something, but then life has other plans. Watching Eddie, I began to believe I could run because… why not? Except my back kept telling me to, you guessed it, f*ck off.

I would get angry, yell, quietly curse at runners in the park – I’m really silly when I’m jealous – feel depressed when my friends signed up to runs I had to watch from the side. I could tell my body “hey you, you can do pilates, you can walk up stairs, why can’t you run a little?” My body would still tell me to f*ck off.

Even with my legs, hips, knees and back refusing to cooperate, I dreamt of doing it all. I imagined myself running miles and miles, completing marathons, winning an Olympic medal. I pictured myself doing amazing things.

Why am I telling you this? Because , yesterday I bought a new pair of trainers…

 

And, because today, June 20th 2013, I imagined no more. … I ran.

No photoshop, just pasty-white and out-of-breath me. Early am. So glamorous

Barely a 2 km run, and at a speed so slooooow, birds wouldn’t even move out of my way – I’m pretty sure a couple of pigeons actually mocked me. I finished exhausted, light headed, almost collapsing as I walked through my front door.

My 7 year old mini dachshund mix, after the run, continued to jump up and down sofas – mocking me, animals tend to do this around me – wrecking his toys apart by shaking them non-stop. It felt like when Carrie Bradshaw fell on the catwalk and Heidi Klum walked over her. My dog being Heidi, a fabulous athletic creature of German origin.

I don’t know if I will be able to run a marathon, but what I did today is already pretty cool. I don’t know if I will be able to run fast, or if my back will allow me to jog regularly, but stretching afterwards, then eating my big breakfast with the best tasting coffee (EVER!!!) felt insanely good. As @karleensmith told me over Twitter:

@fashionlimbo no other feeling like it. It’s the superhero effect 🙂 x

— Karleen Smith (@karleensmith) June 20, 2013

“the superhero effect”

I’m dedicating my first run to those around me that, knowingly or not, helped me run today: Rob, Daniela, Luli and my awesomely brilliant back therapist Ramon Gassó. They made me ready for this, with their support and advice.

And then there’s the great runners out there, that have made me dream of being them. That every time I heard them talk of their running achievements, I thought “I’ll do the same some day”. The amazing Bangs from bangsandabun.com and spikesandheels.com, who is a genius when it comes to motivating the masses. Then there’s lovely Gemma retrochick.co.uk and her health & fitness blog lipsticklettucelycra.co.uk. There are so many inspirational women and men in Twitter … I can’t name all of you, but you know who you are.

Marta & Laura, two teenie-weenie running-addicts from Madrid who are so bloody “chulas” I adore them, and my aunt Sylvia, whom I repeatedly watched leaving her house on bloody cold mornings in London, to run around her neighbourhood like a trooper.

And basically everyone that believed in me, told me to forget about the naysayers and focus on what I wanted to do.

Life begins when you realise you are capable of doing amazing stuff.

Pictures: Fashion Limbo

Me & My Back – How Pilates worked for me

This article was originally published on The Olive Press on October 28th.

Picture this: me striving to complete my second 10-mile-run of my life, looking pretty confident… ok, maybe not that confident, and quite sweaty, drained, a tad wobbly at times. Not the prettiest of sights. Actually, I’m going to include a picture. There you go: moi wearing an orange top, April 2010 in Antwerp Belgium.

Me, when I could run, trying to look cool, most likely listening to Pulp’s Disco 2000

The first 5 miles were more or less a breeze: my iPod on shuffle, my feet trotting along. By mile 7 my back had already given me a light warning, with a subtle pain starting at the bottom of my spine, moving slowly upwards. I reached the finish line happy, relieved to have ended this self-imposed form of torture, but physically broken. I was clueless of what lied ahead: months of physiotherapy, a pile of medical bills, rushed trips to the emergency room, countless types of pain killers, all culminating with me giving up my beloved job.

After months spent visiting several so-called “back experts”, I arrived in Malaga in April 2011, terribly unfit and, quite frankly, fed up. During a bus trip from the city centre, I came across a sign reading “Pilates en máquina”, a studio under the name Afys. I had heard a lot about the practice, less so about the “machine” part of the discipline, so I was curious.

Enticed by a free try-out, I gave it a go, painfully getting through my first session. My legs were shaking, my muscles seemed non-existent, my strength was that of a fly when the cold starts… you know, when they all fly around like drunk little insects.

How does this discipline work? It involves a Reformer or Pilates bed. You use resistance to strengthen your muscles, but instead of heavy weights, the Reformer uses springs, creating said resistance by utilising your body weight.

Now picture this: 6 months after that slightly embarrassing first session, I hardly ever experience back pain, and when I do, is mild, like a silly headache and requires no bed rest or pain-numbing pills. I can walk my dog again, carry my baby niece in my arms, spend an entire day shopping, walk for miles… and I can even consider running again.

In my case, while my injury is still present, the practise of pilates has provided my back with the strength it needed to support my body. There is a fit system of muscles in place, enabling me to have my life back.

The downside? It is not cheap. However, because of the size of the machines, there’s normally a maximum of five to eight pupils per session, which means that  the experts, can monitor you closely, adapting any exercise to your own body, allowing it to strengthen slowly but surely. The guys at Afys are incredible. They have been in charge of the studio for 3 years now, and their customers are faithful fans, happily converted and hooked to the discipline.

I’m not writing this to advertise their business: I get no money or special discounts for this. I’m doing it because a year ago I was completely broken, bored of physiotherapy, convinced I would never be able to run again. Pilates is not the latest fad in fitness, it’s not a silly scam. It works in toning your physique, improving your health and changing your life. It changed mine, for the better.

If you are in Malaga, Spain, Afys Pilates can be found in 39 Av. Pintor Joaquin Sorolla, Limonar (Málaga 29016) Contact no: +34 952 225 731

Pictures: Fashion Limbo, Afys Pilates