Saturday, 28 November 2015

The things I do for bubs.


Knowing full well what I'm about to get myself into this April, having an injury can't be allowed to stop me training, so I have officially converted 'running' into 'cycling' for the time being. I'm really cheesed off at my foot for going wrong but at the same time I suppose that shoving two halves in over three weeks may well have pushed me over the edge of what this body can tolerate. There are people on earth who do the same thing but that's for another post...

So knowing the goal and knowing the method towards the madness, I set out for a ride yesterday. Now, trainers are on the no list, because their hard heels and my sore one are at odds. So out come the fake uggs (fuggs to you and me) over the typical running kit. And here, wait - it's cold and it's coming up on Christmas. So out too comes the novelty headgear, and Rudolph the Redheaded Rider was born.

Seeing as how I already have too many nicknames to fit on my race vest, I may have to sew on a train, scribble them all on and hope like hell I don't end up carting a bunch of skitchers down the Embankment by the end of the race. That said, I'd have to actually be in FRONT of people for this scenario to happen. Dare to dream! Accentuate the positive!

I'm positively champing at the bit to run, and although cycling felt a bit like 'having to settle', the course I took yesterday was a great out and back, with three laps of the local park in the middle for a nice 10k ride. To my great delight it burnt up my teardrop muscles which have seemingly zero strength if yesterday was anything to go by. I think maybe they are the culprit for some of my imbalance issues, considering they oppose bits that hurt a lot.

(That there is novice runner science. Do I get a prize or something? Even a pint would is carbs, right?)

End of that mad cycling jolly I felt cardiovascularly sound, entirely used up and really optimistic that my cross training option will keep me ticking away til I can meet foot to pavement again. I will be good and listen to my physio and get that heel sorted. I will wear my fuggs everywhere til I can wear trainers again. I will clamshellclamshellclamshell. IwillnotrunIwillnotrunIwillnotrun.

Until I can RUN, that is. Then you just try and stop me.

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