The title: I work with people who say that sort of thing in meetings. As a benevolent mother would say: We’re all God’s children……………..
The sore ankle responded well over the past few weeks to my special form of homeopathy: hurt it more to cure it.
I managed a few 20 mile runs and the usual smattering of mid-week runs. The 20 milers would have been better/longer but for the fact that I was trying to mind the ankle and I had family over from London and down from Dublin for visits which lead to beers being opened and beers being drunk and running having to take a back seat. The 20 milers felt fine and I had plenty more in the tank. I was also able to run them with little or no nutrition (junk food) so a longer run stuffed with crap should be possible.
All was progressing along fine until Wednesday morning.
As part of our Indian summer and in order to make us look like an active family as opposed to a few mid-week wine drinkers with three small telly addicts I’ve started walking the kids to school – it’s on my way to work.
The 2 girls walk while the Tom sits on his bicycle seat like a Lord and get’s rolled & cycled to school. (He’s in junior infants (babies) which is not on the grounds of the main school). After dropping the 2 girls to the gate I cycle the scholar to his class of thumb suckers.
While walking towards the school I slipped off the edge of the footpath and, to use one of the many Irish medical terms, felt my ankle go. To feel something go is up-there with taking a turn or having a blockage. All are highly technical and generally fatal.
When something goes on you you generally just know it.
And this was the bad ankle. If you have two of anything on your body, the older you get, one of them is your bad one and the other is your good one.
Your good eye, your bad leg, your good ear, your bad testicle……….you get the idea.
(If you don’t speak hiberno-english all of the above may well be lost on you – think of it as a lesson on being Irish and the confusion you feel should subside).
I was about to enter the River Ayr Way Ultra Marathon (calling it a Challenge makes it feel like you’re about to try to eat a pack of dry cream crackers in 10 minutes) that morning and now I could barely walk on my bad ankle.
I decided to give it a day and to see how I felt the next day (yesterday). The next day it felt as stiff as a 14-year-old boy’s cock after double geography with the new, young lady teacher.
So I went for a run on it and it was grand. Not great or even good but grand.
It struck me that 6 or 10 miles on flat pavements was not a good test for a 41 mile jaunt across moor and heath. In fact, the sort of landscape I was hoping to run across – lots of proprioception was the exact type I couldn’t run across with a dicky ankle.
So yesterday I entered the River Ayr Way Ultra Marathon (RAW for short).
– Stupid is as stupid does as the great philosopher once said.
How bad can it be? I’m not in the shape I was in last year but that’s fine because they’ve made the course longer so my time this year will be a PB. Shit but still a PB.
I told my main supporter last night (and I told her I’d be driving) and she gave me that look.
That look is what married men and dogs who piss on the carpet get whenever they come up with an utterly stupid idea (or piss on the carpet).