Despite a very early coffee with a friend, I knew the day wasn't really started properly. Over-cheesed and still awash with red wine, there was no way I could spend the remainder of morning feeling like I did, so I went back home and got ready for a run. A run does that. It induces a change, shakes you out of whatever place you happen to be in. And if that place is hangover central, then you'll feel better, or at least different once back from your run. It worked. That was Sunday.
My legs felt OK, almost springy, especially after another parkrun the day before. I need to pummel some life into my calves before I run, else they turn to billets of steel...and hurt, a lot. I had Physio again yesterday. It goes like this..."what we're dealing with here Rich, is a fundamental lack of strength". It's difficult to find a compliment in that statement. I feel myself physically sag at hearing his words. He uses a 'metal thing' on me which seemingly is a special tool to help mash the knotty bits in my legs.
It looks home made, but on closer inspection it seems a mighty fine piece of quality torture instrumentation. But today my legs are on fire. They feel broken. It was sunny this morning, beautiful down by the Carrs. A good feeling. They are getting some park outdoor gym equipment here soon. I was in a park in Milton Keynes in the week and they had some stuff there also. I plucked up courage to have a go on a sideways leg swing thing...once having ascertained no one was looking. It made me giggle.
