This post is swirling around my head in abstract thoughts like kicked-up leaves in the wind. I’m trying to rake them all together, only for them to scatter again like spores at the slightest agitation. I’m working hard to knit them together, but forgive me if this post is more disjointed than normal.
I stood here last with, hands-up, faux apologetically, saying, “sh’s gonna get real round here. 15 work-outs a day, and a forced rest every leap year, whether I need it or not”. “Hey, I’m ultra training. Everything’s exercise when you look at it. Dinner plate? Discus. Underpants? Resistance band. Kids? Dumbbells.” And then…
…tumbleweed…
Most training plans start with a rest day, mine has started with a rest week.
On Sunday, my daughter woke up in the night (as she quite often does) needing a wee, so I got up, scooped her up and sat her on the toilet. I left the lights off to protect her little eyes. This toilet is sat back in a little tiled nook in the bathroom, and I don’t know how I did it, but I picked her back up, flushed the chain, and walked straight into the sharp corner of the wall with a hell of a thump. Where it was dark, there was no flinching or defensive stance, I don’t even think I had time to blink before the impact. Just a happy, unassuming stoving.
Blood. Everywhere.
I can whole-heartedly tell you that concussions are real. It’s day 5 and I’m still genuinely struggling with basic cognitive function. On day 1, I couldn’t finish a sentence or walk in a straight line. Day 3, I couldn’t add 4 hours to a time to figure out when I could take more paracetamol. Even yesterday, I could myself lunch and my judgement meant I prepared enough food for 4 people. Today, I’ve still got a headache right down to the ears.
The picture is the leaflet. How can they straight-faced hand something so unnecessarily complicated to someone whose main symptoms include a temporary bout of daily sex and a brain fog that rivals industrial era London.
Oh wait. I meant dyslexia. No wonder the pharmacist was so confused. And aggressive.
I’m not ready for anything yet. I’m still getting moments of disembodiment, like I’m seeing world from over my own shoulder. I’m hoping to get a round-the-blocker in over the weekend, but I’m not going to push it.
Not until tomorrow anyway.
Keep running you lot, and budge up linda9389 , there's room on that couch for a li'l'un
Longer rest periods
