Oh Flax! Ouch. Grumble. Mutter.

Flax! Flax! Flax! or words to that effect
Flax! Flax! Flax! or words to that effect

That’s the thing about being a glass half empty sort of person – while running is not really an enjoyable experience,  NOT running is an even worse experience.

I am injured. Nothing serious, but bad enough that I am NOT running. My Achilles and its eponymous niggle has flared up again.

I have had this injury several times before and I know how to rehab it. Unfortunately this takes time, patience and NOT running.

It is bad enough that I finished the West Highland Way Race with my glass filled nearly up to the top and a real enthusiasm to get out and train for my Autumn marathons, which are now approaching at an alarming rate while I am NOT running.

What is even worse is that the reason I am NOT running is because I am STUPID. I finished WHW in fine fettle and recovered well. I started doing some speedwork and all was well. I picked up a wee bit of soreness running on the Clyde Walkway.  Instead of taking some rest, I followed this up with two consecutive days of hard runs, and after the second one I couldn’t run at all. This was Wednesday. Arran Half Marathon was Sunday, so stayed off the foot until the Sunday and managed to warm up, but was a bit achy. STUPID mode kicks in. It’s a race, I am here, what is the worst that could happen, after all my plan is to take it easy and just use it as a training run, especially in the heat.  Gun goes, off goes STUPID, a full minute a mile faster than plan. By 2 miles it was getting sore, but being STUPID I assured myself it was just a bit stiff and would ease out as it warmed up. By 4 miles it was so sore that I had to stop.  Police car stops while I am stretching against a telegraph pole and asked if I was ok or did I need help? STUPID says I’ll be fine and just stretch it out.  Police car drives off and STUPID determines that he is as well continuing because it is too far to walk back now.  Next, STUPID tries to make a bandage from his calf sleeve doubling it over until the ankle is supported enough to get going.  Eventually after much hobbling STUPID made it to the finish in 1 painful hour and 41 STUPID minutes.

Two weeks later and I am still NOT running because I am STUPID. And because I am NOT running it is making me frustrated, tetchy,  fed up, and even more grumpy than usual. Or so I am told!

I will admit to being just the teensiest less jolly than usual, while my stomach swells up to the size of a bloated gas-filled dead water buffalo and my legs become as stiff as the legs on the aforementioned maggot ridden corpse.

I am missing my daily dose of pain.  So now I am miserable because I can’t get my daily misery fix because I am STUPID and NOT RUNNING.

Grump. Grump. Wanders off into the distance muttering something about Flax….

2 thoughts on “Oh Flax! Ouch. Grumble. Mutter.

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