jackl’s blogThe Limping–ness of the Long Distance Runner
Was all set for another great club run (approximately 6½ miles) and up until the half–way point I was as happy as a Chav in Basildon. I was really feeling like it was all coming together.
In the beginning…
Rewind to me leaving for the club, as I was due to run my first race for the club on Sunday (3/9) I decided to get my kit before meeting everyone at the Pavilion. This I did from the nice people at Benfleet Physio. I decided not to wear the kit for the run and so got changed back into my ordinary running gear.
Did the usual milling around and chatting to people before the run started. Went with Vic’s group and was happy with the pace as I could still chat!
On the run
On our way out of the cemetery I turned my foot over hobbled a bit and was fine within about 30 steps. The run continued and I’d successfully navigated several roads and twisty–turny bits.
Just coming off a park field onto a road I again turned my foot over (this time it was the left one) after landing in a pot–hole. This one definitely felt painful, however with truly macho demeanour (yeah right) I thought it would be fine after a bit.
It’s fine!
After 15 minutes it was no better, in fact I had to keep telling myself that it was fine and to run normally. In the end this became almost a chant and was possibly the only thing that kept me going (that and the fact that it would soon be over).
This is the end…
Vic and the others were starting to pull away and it was only towards the end of the run that I caught them again. I got to the Pavilion and limping finally took over, it was then I noticed that my left trainer felt a lot tighter than the right one.
I thought I’d better tell Ian (organiser for the coming race) of my injury and he agreed that if I gave it some ice and rest that it’d be fine for Sunday.
I quickly got changed, got in the car and had the most painful car journey I’ll ever want to experience; it was fine as long as I didn’t use the clutch :-(
Home, sweet home
By now I was thinking what The Wife told me when I got home “I’ll need to take you to A&E tomorrow”. Oh joy. The Wife had already had her fill of casualty. At the beginning of the week she had been in Wales with some friends and The Girl for a charity Horse & Pony show. Her friend opened an old farm house sash window and found that it removed the tops from a couple of fingers (ouch). So The Wife ferried her friend to Swansea A&E on Bank Holiday Monday and on Friday she ferried me to Southend A&E — what a star.
E.R without the exciting bits
As it was mid–morning Friday the department wasn’t too busy and we got seen pretty quickly (within about 1½ hours). The conversation with the doctor went like this:
Doc: “Did you stop when you turned your foot over?”
Me: “No.”
Doc: “How far did you go before you stopped?”
Me: “About 3 miles.”
At this point the Doc gives me a hard stare.
Doc: “Do you know what I think of you right now?”
I take a minute to consider.
Me: “That I’m a bit foolish?”
Doc: “That’s the polite version, yes.”
After that I got an x-ray that confirmed the Docs suspicions that I had broken my foot.
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