It seems my luck ran out. More pain and another trip to the Physio. Long story short...six weeks no running. 12 weeks full recovery. Arse! I have to be honest, I was pretty fecked off yesterday. If only. If only what? If only I'd been more careful, or something? I don't actually recall doing anything, but it seems my glass ankles, my ankles so favoured by the local dogs, have let me down. No Cross Country, no more MACCL, no Cheshire County XC at Winsford and no Nationals at Parliament Hill.
Worse, no heroic build up to the Wilmslow Half in search of my pb. No fun in the woods with my mates. No 'me' time on my own. No Running Around. Just a pile of shoes to trip over every time I leave or enter the house. Bugger! And Christmas has left me feeling a bit of a chubster. A lanky streak of piss, I used to get called at school, affectionately, of course! Now it's just tall and skinny. Clearly I prefer lean and slender, but a few extra kilos make for an unwelcome friend on a bloke of my build. So it's time to get positive. Swim, gym, bike. I say bike, the Christmas tree's out and Pete's old spin bike is in. In fact the pedal fairy himself brought round a pair of SPD's so I can get all head-down arse-up serious. Not exactly what I'd hoped for in this first week of 2012. I've got six weeks to make a difference. The indoor saddle awaits!
