Just briefly, I was looking forward to winter and the cold mornings. To put this in to some kind of context, I was thinking about breakfast really...and this was at lunchtime. I passed the porridge section down in Big Tesco and remembered the mornings of frosty cold runs and the simplicity of a breakfast choice that would hit the spot without question. Porridge with bananas, raisins and so on. I'm not going all 'healthy eating advice for runners', simply pondering on the thought of having cycled in to work this morning.
I was at a loss for what to gather for breakfast. Hot, sweaty, the morning was baking and I was baked. Costa didn't have an almond croissant, and I was sort of at a loss. I'm pleased to say, my morning became a little more meaningful and useful than this, but for a moment, it was an issue! It didn't exactly ruin my day, but I've had better starts. My legs have been aching. Steve, he who doesn't speak, was my only companion for Monday's PCR, and the culprit for my paIns. There was no chatter, just hard running.
Except at the end when he declared "think my knee's fucked, Rich", and he did that thing we all do when we try to share our injury stories with lots of pointing, touching and exaggerated rubbing. I'm afraid I didn't really have anything to offer, other than reciprocating self manipulation and some sympathetic grunting. I'm sure it'll be fine, but he again is making reference to his age...and in his words, brief but succinct as they are, I hear my own voice...and I don't like it. Age can get the better of us, but more so in the head, than in the legs.
