Some more massage, and a chat about running plans led to further horror: "I think you should leave it another few days, and perhaps go for a short run at the start of next week." Really? Did he not realise that I was all fixed and ready to run miles and miles and miles and miles? Did he not know that I had a two half marathons in the next seven weeks?
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| 100% accurate representation of how I felt. |
He gave me a plan: two short, gentle runs this week. I figured if I did the first on Monday, and the second on Wednesday, then I might be able to sneak another one in on Saturday if everything went well. So it was that, full of excitement, and slightly scared, I was dressed in that sexy fluorescent yellow once again. I decided upon a nice little three mile loop that I knew well.
It was great! Well - the first mile was. No pain at all, just a nice mile completed in nine minutes. I was chuffed, and started to work out how I would add the mileage back in to get me up to a decent distance for the Bath Half. Then my knee started to ache. Then my knee started to ache more. Then my knee started to ache really quite badly. Then I stopped. I'd completed two miles, and I practically hobbled the third mile home.
Stairs are once again my nemesis, merely standing causes unreasonable discomfort. I still have a vague hope that I might be able to get out for a short run later this week, but if I do, it might be on a one mile loop! More likely, I'm going to give my leg a decent rest, and reassess things in a week or so. If I can persuade myself to be that patient. In the mean time, I'm going to have to live vicariously through my wife's running: wonder if she fancies a ten miler at the weekend, I know a really good route...
