Gout – you’re kidding me right!

I missed Race the Train event due to a bruised foot, thought to have been incurred whilst trying to break the world record for number of side kicks humanly possible in one minute (and failed miserably of course). A few days after my kick-a-thon, all’s well and my left foot is back to normal. Off to Scotland we go for some mountain madness with wifey J

The night before, no kids at they were off sunning it up in Greece with my mum, decided on cooking a nice meal of saturated fat i.e. British lamb chops with mint sauce and all the trimmings with a bottle of decent red thrown in to boot…sorted, happy days!

The next day, we fly off to Glasgow and my left foot starts to hurt again, not a throbbing but a dull pain. We enjoy some Scottish hospitality and a few scoops and that evening my foot or more precisely the joint on my left big toe becomes red, swollen and painful to walk on. WTF is going on here I ask myself….this is not an injury!! Surely it’s not gout or something…that’s for overweight old people with drinker’s noses and arses stuck to smelly sofas stained with piss, excrement and remnants of microwave meals…..surely!! My research leaves me devastated….”GOUT a painful symptom that initially effects the big toe caused by too much uric acid in the blood which crystallises in the joint causing pain and inflammation”. Feck a dead duck, that’s what I’ve got….I’m all gouty…noooo! How can this be, I drink in moderation, normally (but get totally hammered on the odd occasion), a very good balanced healthy diet, lots and lots of exercise, I’m perfect BMI, not diabetic, don’t have high blood pressure, don’t smoke, don’t take drugs either recreational or prescribed, I’m not stressed at all, have the heart rate of someone eight years younger but I’ve got gout! GONADS!

Then I read this blog offthe internet; a rather uncanny almost scary resemblance to myself….

“First at all, let me tell you a bit about my GOUT journey. I am healthy 42 years dad of 2 who is active all the time; I practice martial art, working out (no supplement in any form use whatsoever) and love hiking a lot. One morning in early May 2011 I was waking up with excruciating pain in my left toe’s joint. I first thought it might be a result of injury for the 8 hours hike 2 days ago. I left it untreated and took couple of 400 mg Ibuprofen then went to work. The day went on and the pain was getting worst and the joint getting inflamed and swollen to the point I needed to take my shoe off. I went home and thought I must have broken something. I went to see my family doctor next day and was told I was indeed suffering a gout attack. I was so shocked due to I am a Red meat hater, I do not smoke or drink any alcohol in my entire life, I exercise every day and only have less than 10% body fat. How could I get gout? Then my doctor explained to me that because my dad and grandfather both had gout, genetically I have 70% chance to get gout in my lifetime. I am so discouraged and frustrated, I am already a Health Freak before all this, what am I supposed to do now, I hate to lose my mobility and made me feel weak and look like a cripple. Then I summarized what leading to the gout attack. First, I have to admit I love Sardine and Herring, I ate 4 cans of oiled sardines and herring 3 days on a roll, also had spinach, asparagus, dried peas and beans for salad dinner the night before.

Plus the 8 hours hike 2 days ago with drinking very little water. Then followed by a 13 hours long working day before the attack. Genetic or not, I had done everything humanly possible to contribute to my GOUT”

So this dude has the same thing as me, also 42 with two kids, hiker and martial artist, very healthy, less than 10% body fat (mine is 9.2) doesn’t smoke, drink or eat red meat (OK I indulge on the drink but don’t eat much red meat) and yet he gets gout. I’ve recently changed my diet to include more beans and pulses, recently ate a lot of asparagus and increased protein plus oily fish topped off with perhaps hereditary high levels of uric acid then a bottle of red wine and lamb…bingo….you trigger Gout – all these above increase you levels of uric acid, the main culprit.

I refer back to my recent 32 sample blood tests and look at my uric acid levels. The normal acceptable range is 266 – 474. Mine at the time, before my increased uric acid diet change was 474….smack back on the top end of the range….it’s all fitting together. Gouty gouty you old git…..

So the purpose of this blog for those that care is to let you know how I beat it in 12 hours WITHOUT medication my pet hate!

The following day I could hardly walk, kind of hobbled. If felt as though my left toe was broken! So, firstly I took a high dose Vit C, ate fresh fruit, yoghurt, porridge and honey for breakfast and light foods for lunch and evening avoiding sugar, caffine, beans, offal, oily fish, high proteins etc. Did not touch alcohol even though we were out for dinner that night, drank about 3 litres of water and the secret weapon….after much internet research went to a health shop and bought a bottle of Dark Cherry Concentrate and downed about 100ml diluted with water over the course a few hours. My arse erupted into a fantastic manly bout of wind which was truly stunning in both strength and aroma, awesome top trumps! I took some more when I went to bed, blowing the sheets clear off the bed and more during the night pwwwwarrr! The next morning….it’s a miracle….I can walk. Seriously, without drug or medication, natural remedy only, my foot was normal. Sprung out of bed, farted again and got showered and booted up. The next two days were spent on the mountain, two strenuous 8 hour hikes with not a single problem of issue with gouty gouty….amazing. In fact, I can actually say I felt bloody brilliant.

Having looked at the research evidence of cherries and their amazing anti-oxidant levels and proven record of reducing uric acid plus other possible benefit to prevent future heart disease and high blood pressure I’m now off to Holland and Barrett to stock up my fridge with this elixir. For all you runners out there, it is also meant to speed muscle recovery after those long grinding runs….

But be warned, it produced enough gas to blow hurricane Irene back across the Atlantic which is pretty cool if you’re a bloke but the wife was not to impressed. Couldn’t help but laugh with school boy giggles every time though J Farting is fun, fact! And…..

I always knew popping cherries was the future!

Race the Pain…..

It’s Friday and I’m p***ed off!

I should be on the motorway, cruising along to some old skool house music, tapping my hand on the steering wheel, boots thrown on the back seat, left leg curled under my right thigh, super chilled, big smile on my face.

Rucksack in the boot full of essentials: running shoes, shorts, vest top, tent, jetboil, jaffa cakes and my race number 582

Alas, no.

No Wales for me!

No hills for me!

No sheep for me!

No summit of Cadir Idris for me!

Gutted….no “RACE THE TRAIN” for me!

(shoot that bloke with the violin FFS!!)

MY LEFT FOOT…….or to be precise MY LEFT METATARSAL has been beaten up….my big toe attacked by a man with a leather clad sponge pad. OK so I was kicking him at the time, once or twice (Well actually 68 times in one minute).

Jun Fan endurance training Tuesday, run there, trained, run back no problem. Then it started to swell and yesterday evening could not even walk on it.  Snot good!

So do I hope it’s better tomorrow and travel to Wales….or is running 14 miles across the fells chasing a train with a damaged foot not the best thing for next weeks Scottish Mountain Challenge. Ruled by my head for once….I’m staying home L Prime myself up for smashing those Munro’s.

So what to do now…..maybe, just maybe I can ride a bike???.....to Wales or something……..

Let's go nuts in London...the 26/26/26 Challenge 2012

26 miles, 26 of London's finest landmarks on the 2nd of the 6th 2012. Get it in your diary, cancel all holidays, gypsy weddings, barmitzvahs, divorce parties, stork deliveries, work engagements, social gatherings, family BBQ's, wakes, festivals,circumcisions, feasts, fasts or fetish parties (unless of course I'm invited to the latter gimpy gimpy house S&M tie me up and walk me round like a dog rave woof woof, will you rub my belly if I ask you nicely, purrrrr)....

So what's the deal....you pay me ten quid and I will let you walk round London for free, for as long as you like, breathing in an unlimited supply of air. There will be free water for most of the journey although it's not the cleanest, it's tidal and you will need to wear a life jacket to fill your camel packs. Watch out for floaters, sinkers and mid water bombers!! Oh and rats!! For all you dope head stoners, I will also throw in an unlimited supply of free grass at three key pick up locations (Hyde Park, Regents Park and St James's park).

There will also be free bear (when you pass London Zoo and look over the fence near the swings on a bearing of NNW just to the side of the komoda dragon enclosure)

No contract, just a one off lump sum payment of ten squids, half a score, a thousand pennies and not a penny more and your in. How's that for a slice of pure gold !

Also, now this is where I get serious for a minute, for that £10 fee you get to support two great charities CLAPA - Cleft lip and Palate association  http://www.clapa.com/

AND

Born too soon, helping premature babies and providing much needed support to parents http://www.borntoosoon.org.uk/index.html

Of your ten pound entrance fee all the money raised will be split 50/50 between these two charities less of course my administration and personal expenses. Now this is a grey area, not always declared when collecting for charity so I want to be very clear on this, transparent in fact. The percentage for administration will be zip percent, the percentage for expenses will be naff all percent, the hidden deduction will be buggar all percent...the amount taken from the £10 that will not go equally to these two charities will be sweet FA percent. You get my drift, in fact for every ten pound entrance fee I will add 10% out of my pocket to help these amazing charities. 

Now I know you'll be there if you've read this far and will already be deleting dates from next years social diary and counting out the coppers in your Mary, Mungo and Midge money box so please, read on.

On the 2nd June 2012 we invade London Bridge around 9.00 am for a 9.30 start. We are dressed as complete idiots in a variable array of stupid fancy dress costumes, some of us holding collection buckets, balloons, banners, stickers....(on grounds of H&S molotov cocktails will be strictly prohibited). We aim to walk at a nice steady pace around the City of London taking in 26 of the major Historic and Modern landmarks like,  London Bridge, Tower Bridge, Tower of London, Globe Theatre, Tate Modern, Millennium Bridge, St Pauls Cathedral, The Monument (Pudding Lane), Cleopatras Needle, London Eye,  Big Ben, House of Parliment, Westminster Abbey, WhiteHall, Downing Street, Admiralty Arch, Buckingham Palace, Kensington Palace, Planaterium, all the Royal Parks plus of course Take-a-Lookie chinese resteurant in Gerrard street

My buddy Chris Pearce, whose daughter was sadly born premature and with a cleft palet and who is the reason behind me organising this event will also be at our side. In fact he will be at my side quite a bit....if fact he will be strapped to my side. This will be something like our sixth event we have done together for CLAPA and Born Too Soon so this one we go together...like tied together ....as in the three legged man.



Please please please join us if you can, spread the word to the world, everyone is welcome and for those not up for 26 miles or who want to bring people with little legs there will be a shorter 13 mile walk starting a little later but finishing at the same place.

Post event, for those that want to hang around, this will be done in the usual style by taking over a pub and a place in China town for much carb loading of the drink and solid variety.

Hope you can join us and make this a memorable event. For the 54 that made extreme laundry on Snowdon, you all know what a great crack and weekend that was despite the absolutely horrendous conditions.Would love to see you all again in the big smoke......pi - pi - piano piano piano.....

Look forward to seeing you fellow nutcases join together as one, once again,....

Forver grateful,

Si Smally
x

Charity does NOT begin at home!

Charity DOES NOT begin at home.

My definition of charity is sparing a couple of quid to help people less fortunate than ourselves or indeed to support others that have shared a life changing experience such as losing a loved one. To help keep the world a happier, healthier place to live, to prolong life, to battle against the many things on this planet that are created to destruct and destroy. To assist human beings that volunteer their lives to save others and to protect natures life forms from pain, suffering and cruelty. This is not exhaustive.....

There are three types of human beings on this planet of ours: those that give, those that give and take and those that just take! It is for the latter that brings me to write this rant.

You takers out there that coin a phrase "charity begins at home", and I've met so many over the years, ask yourself this:

Do you know anyone that has died or suffered from heart disease, has been stuck down by the dreaded "C"word, been disabled through accident, injury or disease, blinded, mute, mentally or physically handicapped, had a stroke, been born premature or with a defect, killed or maimed fighting for our country, has been in a car accident and been rescued by helicopter, has been abused as a child or mistreated in any way, has an addiction they want to kick but can't. This is not exhaustive........

(As I lay here in bed typing this, the postman drops a few letters through the box. A couple of usual bills, a bit of junk mail and a letter from one of my chosen charities "Action for Kids" . It's about a kid called Steven, I say kid he is now a grown man at 24 and has been in a wheelchair all his life, born premature weighing only one and a half pounds and with a rare condition called Torsion Dystonia. He is profoundly deaf and almost paralysed from the chest down (check) and has an old NHS wheel chair. He needs a new wheelchair adapted with a chin operated joy stick so he can communicate...jeez, we take so much for granted in this life.....I'm touched, I don't know him but I want to help him....I want to run for this young man, I want to run for Steven, I want to help fund his new wheel chair. Why,.....because I care...don't ever tell me charity begins at home!! )

So, if you takers have answered yes to any of the above, and still won't put a pound in the old ladies collection tin outside the supermarket who has just lost her husband through heart disease, or the newly married couple who have had their world ripped apart by an ICD in Afghanistan or the widowed husband who's wife died young through cancer; Then I fear for you parsimonious soul and only hope that if you are ever in need of any help from these amazing charities that you are not shoved to the bottom of the waiting list due to lack of funding. If you do, don't come knocking at my door....I'm not at home!!!

Rant over, for now!

Ultra fit….or just ultra stupid….

When I get something in my head, there is no stopping me until it’s done. It becomes almost obsessive and that latest obsession is Ultra running.

Why? The million dollar question with no real answer. Maybe because I’ve tasted a 50+ mile foot race in the Calladonian and loved it. Maybe because I feel I can give more, push harder. Maybe, I am a person that has to have goals in order to drive me on, Maybe because I want to see if I have the mental  strength and attitude for ultra endurance running, pushing through the wall of pain and back out the other side. Maybe because, as most people point out, I’ve lost the plot! Probably, in truth a bit of all of the above. Surely I can’t be sane to want to run 50,60, 75 miles trail races….or come to that 250k across a desert in China!

Well, sane or not I’m doing it. And I’ve always stuck to the much overused cliché of if a jobs worth doing it’s worth doing well. Gobi March, under two years away gives me a perfect goal, the ultimate target to aim and train for. To push my body to the extreme’s it’s never known.

I know this journey is not going to be easy. Running is not really fun, it’s a release, it’s rewarding , gives you a buzz when you finish a run and get that ethanol smell at the back nasal passages, the runners high, but it’s definitely not fun.

So, Adventure Hub…what a web page.  They organise six ultras each year: Yorkshire 50 miles, Welsh 62 miles, Exmoor 40 miles,  Northumberland 62 miles, Norfolk 62 miles and finally Scotland 75 miles.

They are every other month starting in January and apart from Norfolk all involve tough mountain or hilly trail terrain. So, not being able to decide on which one’s to do, Welsh and Scottish being my preferred, I’ve decided to do all six.  Six races, 351 miles……perfectly sane decision don't you think!!!!!???!!!!

JOG ON!

It's a hard act to juggle....

It's not easy training to be a super fit human ultra marathon running socialite! Getting a balance between getting fit and getting pissed really is hard to juggle....

It seems my tough training regime, now commencing it's third week gets interrupted mid week with a few sherberts and a ruby murray; in between there are other social gatherings and the weekend..well it's the weekend init!! Although I've still trained, my big Sunday run has not quite materialised but still managing to get out and do 15 - 18 miles of running each week, a few hours martial arts, bit of cycling, the odd speed drill and rowing here and there but that's not what's planned, need to smash a few ten milers, get up to about 30+ miles a week! So.... jog on my son.....

To keep me inspired and motivated, I've added a few more fun events to my diary....Royal Parks Half in October, some Ice climbing in Norway, Mountain leader course in Wales and as my team mate Robson Green Fingers has had to pull out of the Scottish Nokia Coast 2 Coast due to knee injury I've decided to defer my entry a year and do the Welsh 3,000 24 Hour Challenge instead.....It's a bloody tough one but as they say no muff is too tough and I've got 14 pretty tough, rough and probably gruff muffs to get up in 24 hours.. SO ENOUGH'S ENOUGH .....bring on those Welshy mountains baby!!!

Beer anyone?????

Did you say Challenge….24 peaks….24 hours….., not ‘arf guvner!!!

So game one, I got a glimpse of a challenge from a friend of a friend, a challenge to summit twenty four peaks in the Lake District all over 2,400ft within a walking time of less than 24 hours. Get in, I’m all over it like a STD on a virgins genitalia. Brilliant, now who’s daft enough to join me? I know; those two lads from Derbyshire Mr Moist aka Bumble aka Dr Death and the newly named and green fingered demi-god of horticulture Robson Green. Mr Boycott would also have been there had he not already pre-booked residing in a champagne tent somewhere near Goodwood getting smashed out of his face (no jealously there of courseJ )

Now that Wainwright bloke knew a thing or two about those Lakeland Hill’s and considering we’d be trotting over a vast number of the biggest including theee biggest in England Scafell Pike I was under no illusions that this would be a tough challenge. But let’s face facts here, if it wasn’t then I wouldn’t be even considering it. I’ve come a long way since the old days of the egg and spoon race, three legged challenge and the sack hopping relay.

Fresh from smashing the Caledonian challenge with a hearty bunch of chaps and chappettes, 54 miles non-stop of Scottish Mountains in less than 22 hours, surely I’m invincible, easy squeezy. Not so……

The Friday before the kick-off, I decided to travel up early and tackle the UK’s only Via Ferrata. For those that don’t know what this is, it’s basically a wire fixed to the side of a mountain which you climb around attached to a lanyard, a rope with a clip on the end for all you non-technical people. It’s pretty easy, although very, very exposed and if you don’t use the kit correctly and fall, quite simply you die whilst people above laugh heartily as your body is smashed into rock after rock before landing in a bloody crumpled heap at the foot of the mountain. “GAME OVER”  (in a 1960’s robotic voice). Anyway, it was great, easy for me but the big bunch of leather jacket and trainer brigade from Bradford didn’t find it so. Feck me, they were like a bunch of Mr Beans with Bambi legs on a tight rope, but wearing leather jackets! Shocking!

Via Ferrata nailed, met the boys at our luxury bunk house….seriously…it was lush!! £15 a night and we even had our own bed, pillow and there was even a little bit of carpet on the floor. We had a vista window which let light in 24 hours a day even somehow when it was pitch black and an en-suite erm….cupboard type thing with a stinking bog and a sink so small you could only get one hand or two testicles  in it but not both at the same time, try as I might. Apologies to the lads whose tooth brushes were on the side. Curly hairs on your medium bristle lime green Colgate active brush, nice!   Every dawn we would be awoken by the harmonious sound of the local chaffinch asking the slapper robin red breast in the next bush what she got up to last night, obviously quite a lot by the sound of it.  A sound that epitomises nature at its finest…but NOT AT THREE O’CLOCK IN THE F***ING MORNING!!!!!

So, with very little sheep… sorry sleep, we arose at 4.30am, although a certain part of my anatomy was not in tune with the rest of my body and seemed to have arisen a little earlier (smirk). Lads, you know the score!

Just time for a quick w……..eee , teeth flossed, nasal hair trimmed, arm pits sprayed and pants turned inside out…..then out of door and into the cars. A quick 45 minute drop off to the finish line and an even quicker drive to the start and we we’re ready to go. Apologies for all the road kill incidents but they really should be taught the green cross code. Or just get the hell out of the way. Starting gun at the ready,  Moisty was of course moisturising (I kid you not), Robson was looking for a place to sow some seeds (of the vegetable variety) and me, well I was on the lookout for four legged woolly beasts. I was not disappointed.

After spotting some Red Squirrels, then subsequently shooting them with a giant elastic band to BBQ later we started out our quest to conquer the 24 peaks.

We stormed off, ten minutes later, knackered, sweating, scorching heat and being gang banged by the local midge fraternity. For clarity that’s midge not midget, the little feckers were everywhere, midges that is!

Our first summit, Red Pike was a slog but easily reached given we were alpha males full of energy, testosterone and last night’s dinner…but in the case of Mr Moist the latter was not for long. Log dropped discreetly over the side of a boulder we marched on…..and on….and on……and on. The heat was a killer, I soon began to hallucinate, seeing dream like visions…..sheep,sheep,sheep everywhere, just looking and bahhhhhing , bahhhhing and looking, occasionally one would bleat and wag it’s little tail….. had I really died and gone to heaven so soon…? A quick sugar fix in the form of two snickers, half a bar of Howard Kendles Cake and a couple of  Lucosade E’s  and I was back on track, rocking away…show me those mountains Yahoosive!!

We had a few little breaks, no more than five minutes but of course stopped for lunch on top of the Great Gable to pay homage to the mighty Jaffa Cake and it was socks back on, boots on and in the case of Bumble, a quick moisturise after tending to delicate parts of the little tootsies.

It took a while, and I won’t bore you with the details basically because I can’t remember much but we reached our final peak of the day Bow Fell. In fact I do remember one detail, and this is totally 100% true, all three of us stopped and looked at a really nice sheep admiring it’s cute face and clean almost designer wavy fleece….almost mesmorised in a world of animal love I had to tell the boys to get a grip. You know if you spend too much time around people things start to rub off on you. These guys had been brainwashed by my persistent adulation of the fluffy little lamb chops on legs. It was just after that incident that I wondered if I would actually be safe in that bunk house come nightfall. Forgetting of course that it never bloody gets dark!!

We’ll the decent from Bow Fell was interesting, it was about 8.00pm and the pub about three miles away stopped serving food at nine. My two compatriots we flagging, Robson and Jerome both suffering with knee’s on the decent, started to feel the pain. So, decision time, do I stay with them and risk no food, or do I jog on and get the orders in! I jogged on! Running downhill was a bit of a pound on the old calves but the reward was worth it….A pint of Stella in hand and a couple of ciders for the lads, I sat there not giving a shit about the marauding midges, reflecting on a job well done and the pint of liquid love in my hand.  Unfortunately, there was no food available but when there’s Stella, you don’t need food! The two way radio crackled and Robson Green Fingers called to say that Mr Moist had run out of moisturiser and needed assistance. I ran to next pub, where the car was parked and drove to the foot of Bow Fell to pick the boys up. Indeed it was true, Mr Moist without his Skin-So-Soft did look f***ed, like….. “Proper f***ed”.

Beer, jelly beans & fish and chips later we were back in our den of inequity, still pungent from a mixture of drains, farts and man sweat. We crawled into our sleeping bags and drifted off into a world of cotton wool. Tomorrow, I go it alone (well almost).

Awoken to the sound of Bongo drums I jump up from by bottom bunk and hit my head on the rails of the bed above…switch of my African alarm and get ready to do battle with Day 2. The boys drop me off and head home for a Sunday roast and a few beers in the local while I tackle the next 14 peaks with a two day old egg sandwich.  Joined by a good friend Gaz, another Derbyshire lad, we crack on, relentless, another scorchio day, legs as red as a baboons arse after a vindaloo. Peak after peak smashed a few killer decents and ascents one of which, Dollywagon nearly broke my new hiking partner. We had to stop to let him rest so a good time to feed. Rollocks, I’d left my eggy sandwich in Robsons wheels. Thank McVities for Jaffa Cakes I cried quietly to myself, selfishly stuffing my face as quick as possible so I didn’t have to share my favourite orangey morsels.

I motivated my two man team to crack on, time was pressing, no rest, I want success. On that hill I experienced something very rare. The cool updraft and hot summit air had created a vortex right in front of us. A whirlwind about two foot wide and six foot high collecting dry grass and spinning it around whistling, and dancing around us. I stepped toward it and as I did so it moved toward me. I stopped but it came straight at me, a gust of really warm wind surrounded my body then it went calm and deadly silent as I stood in its eye then  a second later, warm gusting wind and it was gone. Amazing!!!

We passed Striding edge, met some lovely people had a chat then swiftly carried on…needed to get to Great Dodd, the final peak the 24^th by 5.00pm. Pushing the pace I arrived at the final peak dead on 5.00pm, perfect. I jumped onto the cairn wearing my fresh CLAPA (Cleft Lip and Pallet Association) T-Shirt straight onto a friggin wasp nest. Fortunately they were more interested buzzing around like mindless insects to even care about me, or more so because they like sweet things and I smelt like a bag of shite on a shite farm in shitteville (bit like Birmingham).

I had 1 hour to get back down that hill, through the marsh and forest to the car park. Would I make it, it only seemed like about two miles so I started to walk. Not covering the distance, I started to run and didn’t stop. Three miles later I hit the car, the finish line. 23 HOURS 49 MINUTES  :--- Job done!

Was actually feeling pretty fresh and celebrated with several beers, a bottle of merlot and of course …...a lamb chop supper!

Will I do it again, you bet….I’ve got a new time to beat!!!!!!