A week off work is coming to an end, my first since going to Eilat with Pete in April. Almost immediately after finishing Tatton on Sunday it seems the mind and body gave up, rolled over and died, confining me to bed for a couple of days. not that there were great plans for the week, but whatever they were, they kind of crumbled, leaving a week that's almost passed with not much to show for it. You know the feeling, when you look in the mirror and conclude that today is a day when it's not happening, not for me, at least.
I looked and felt proper rough. I did bake a pretty handsome cake though, and managed a couple of runs. I also went to see physio Wayne with a brief to knock some life back into my calves. Regrettably this meant baring my feet in public and reminded me I've not really concluded digging my toes out since Passing Clouds a few weeks ago. I realise this sounds grim, but I recall a tale of my childhood when mum would explain why Dad was so grumpy because we left our toys out all over the floor.
She explained that because he was so tall he couldn't see the debris my brother and I littered at his feet. It left me with a notion that my Dad had a height disability, something at 6'2" I've inherited. "Poor Dad, he's so tall he can't see the ground!" So I stand there in the shower, gazing down at my black toes. Not black in that runners badge-of-honour way, just black in the corners. They need digging out, but they're so damned far away, all the way down there, I need to schedule a project that involves mobilising my back so I can get down there to reach.
A job for another day! Wayne was kind, with respect to my feet, though honest when it came to flexibility in my legs, then ruthless on my calves. I then went for a run up to the Wizard, a couple of miles in realising I'd forgotten my head torch. Somehow I thought 'it'll be fine', a line I'm famous for, which is simply to ignore the truth. What I really mean is 'it will be what it will be'. Dark is what it was, and was floundering around like an idiot, wondering what I must look like through an infra red camera.
Quite what made me think I'd be able to see where I was going is beyond me, but a plan is a plan, and I wasn't for turning. I'm pleased to report I have now cleaned my feet thoroughly, a task that utilised many tools and a fair amount of digging around. I stand back and admire them, from great height, chuckling after realising that today is Match 2 of the Cross Country series. The swamps and mud of Sherdley Park await! Fresh feet, number ready...let's see what's in the tank. There is promise of cake, once more.
