At least my grammar hasn't suffered though.
Still here. Feet up on the injury couch, a bag of peas parcel-taped to my head, begging sympathy from the world.
I know what you’re thinking. Always the good guys, right?
This is day 9 and I’m still knocking back paracetamol like they’re smarties. I’ve still got some suspended orb of pain that’s roaming around my front lobe like ball lightning, and I’ve still got that rash.
Although that may be unrelated.
I had my first day back at work yesterday. Actually, I worked from home the first couple of days but have a worryingly limited recollection of this. Apparently I was in meetings. Clever ones too, and I cannot for the life of me think what was said, or what I said. It’s like trying to remember your drunken shame after a raucous night out. Luckily I’m blithering at the best of times, otherwise it would’ve been noticeable. I may’ve flown under the radar.
I managed to both vomit and fall over in the office yesterday, so there’s something nice. There may be a cryptic clue buried deep in there that I’m still not right. Some clever-clogs has changed my computer settings to dark mode (you always know whose going to be IT savvy just by looking at them, but if in doubt, start with the guy with the ponytail), so everything has a black background, and that is making a huge difference, but in terms of running. Nil, nada, niente, nuffink.
I had a brisk 2 mile walk though this morning due to train strikes. I’m not OK to drive (I think I am, and that’s what airbags are for, but this is apparently an unpopular opinion) so I’m living la vida on public transport this week. I love the public. Especially the dribblers. There’s always something to watch.
On my way home last night, I was sat at a bus stop and surrounded by the shallow end of the gene pool, those societal dregs who’ve inexplicably made it to biological adulthood like an evolutionary paradox. Credit where credit’s due though, they’re off their heads on a Monday evening. You can’t look down on that, that’s the dream!
One came up next to me while I was looking at my phone, who was all too interested in my phone, but clearly lacking either the control or intelligence to side-eye his intent instead of lurching like a ship in a storm. The (highly probably) ruse was to overtly pretend to read the time-table (out loud) and to snatch my phone.
This plan would’ve been bulletproof, and I none-the-wiser, if not for two slight errors 1) he was clearly illiterate and 2) there was no time-table there, because I tried to look at it before I sat down.
I put my phone away, preparing for action (it would’ve been mildly intimidating if he didn’t look like he was one hard cough away from defecating on himself), but with the bait gone, he retreated to plan B which was to ask everyone for money. Inner city bus stops on Monday evenings aren’t going to be first stop in your hunt for affluence. This one certainly wasn’t. So off he stumbled across 4 lanes of main road.
It broke the wait up beautifully.
Anyway, train strikes this morning meant I had to get off on an earlier stop and walk it in, which I quite enjoyed, but it did demonstrate to me that that was probably the current ceiling of exertion. I wanted to go a day without painkillers but had to raid my desk drawer on arrival.
So week 2 of the training plan seems to be heading the same way as week 1. It’s like coastal erosion. Negative progress it feels like.
The previous medical advice was to consult my GP if symptoms persist beyond 2 weeks, I think I’m heading that way in all honesty. In fact I wouldn’t be bowled over with surprise if there’s some kind of fracture going on in there somewhere too, but that’s Dr Google again. Dr Real Life Person is continually inaccessible. I’m not even sure if he exists anymore; I suspect he’s like the Wizard of Oz, and is actually just the receptionist nipping behind a plush curtain.
So, there we have it. More non-running. Another meaningless, go nowhere, non-running post. Hopefully it made you smile though.
I hope you lot are out there, zipping around, causing mischief. Wreak some havoc for me, please!