10 Musings From An Injury Striken Runner In Denial.
So I’ve been injured for little over 48 hours and here are the sort of things I’ve been doing and thinking about in that time.
- I’ve been wondering just how bad my injury is - If it’s the worst case scenario and I’ve got a stress fracture in my lower left leg that means up to 3 months off running. If that’s true then my plans for running Amsterdam and Dublin are finished. I’ve checked the symptoms on line and it doesn’t seem to be that as the pain is in a more general area and it doesn’t hurt when I press down anywhere on my shin. I’m thinking tendinitis or shin splints. I don’t honestly know. I’m just resting and hoping.
- I’ve been sending pictures of my bare legs to men I barely know on the Internet - That man in particular was physio Tom Goom who runs Running Physio. Without thinking about how my guesture might be construed, I sent him a picture of my pasty cracker leg at 8am and a Tweet that said something like ‘So what do you think of this big fella?!’. Fortunately he took it the right way and offered some great advice (basically told me to stop being an idiot and get my leg checked out by a physio).
So what do you think of it, fella?
- I’ve been reluctant to eat junk food - When you can’t run you tend to think of food in terms of how long it would take you to walk it off. Given that I can barely manage a 30 minute mile at the minute it would take at least a day to walk a block of cheddar off and half a day for a Snickers. It’s 7pm and I’m sitting here eating Strawberries as I don’t wanna spend tomorrow shuffling as punishment.
- I’ve been trying to find a way to walk that doesn’t hurt - Once I have mastered this I will find a way to walk that doesn’t make me look like I have shit myself. It’s tricky. The worst part of it is that I move with a shuffle. Some old woman tutted at me in the street as she thought I was staggering from alcohol intoxication. Silly bitch. Hope she chokes on a pigeon.
- I’ve been thinking ‘what if’ - I’ve been thinking ‘what if I ran the half marathon on Sunday just a little slower?’ Well, the chances are I would not have hurt myself and could have ran tomorrow. But who’s to say that this wouldn’t have happened at some point down the line? My situation could be a lot worse. I remember thinking about trying for a final 24 minute 5k to end my half marathon on Sunday. I managed a 28 minute one, but if I’d went for it I probably wouldn’t be able to walk at all.
- I’ve been trying to surpress the silly part of me that wants to go out running - I haven’t been injured seriously in the past and part of me thinks “Yeah this isn’t serious either, run it off you lazy bastard!”. I need to record a video of myself walking and play it back to myself when I think like this. I can be my own worst enemy.
- I have been falling into self pity - Mainly in the form of eating at least 3 Tim Horton’s donuts a day to try to feel better. It is not working. The feral side of me is pining for nature and plying my head with lines like “Oh poor Angry Jogger has a sore paw. Awww. Poor Angry Jogger. Let’s throw a Cheestring at his arse and watch him lick his balls.”
- I have been relishing the lie ins - It is relief to be able to sleep until 7am in the work morning. Getting up for a run at 5am is exhausting. I won’t be entertaining that idea until it no longer hurts to walk. Even then I’m gonna leave it a few more days.
- I am refusing to blame speed running or hills on my injury - Before I’d have used this as an excuse to give up altogether on runs that required any effort. I only got injured as I was stupid enough to attempt to run 3 half marathons within 5 days at a faster pace than normal. When I return to running I will be more patient but I will continue to push forward. If I’d practiced patience last week I wouldn’t have had to rest this week.
- I’ve been finding new outlets to express my anger - Whenever I havent been running I tend to feel extremely tense. As I write this I am sitting alone in a train carriage with a group of adoloscents who are blasting shitty dance music from their phones and acting like idiots. My only recourse has been to fart at them. Yes, the Angry Jogger is using chemical warfare to express his aggression. They cannot see me but they can smell me. Now if only one of the adolescents were to drop dead I could emerge from this situation a happy man. I need to get back to running as quickly as possible before I light one of my farts and am convicted of arson.