Strap me down and tickle my elbow with a sausage. Its been a good while since I was last seen striding manfully about this cowering blog. Truth is, I walked off a step onto a slender piece of steel tubing with a nib at the end. The steel didnt move a millimetre. My chest slowly but relentlessly began to cave in and yield. No match. Ouch.
I suppose I should be pleased I wasn't impailed, rather than just incuring the damaged rib(s) I have and am trying to recover from. It was a little bizarre, given that I'd just arranged to run the Coastal Run, as her indoors was crocked. So there's been virtually no exercise over the last two weeks and much contorting as I engineer myself out of bed or try to carry out some rudimentary aspects of my life, like work and sneezing. That said, I am on the mend and should be able to get back out on the bike this weekend for a short ride.
The prospect of a fastish run (or any run) at the Sunderland 5k is water long gone under the bridge. On the plus side, my lower limbs have had a good rest since the Windy Gyle Fell race, where we arrived late and Organiser Phil G shoe horned me and the youngster into the burgeoning field. It was a lovely day for a race as over 100 of us set off, and even though I was 13th in the end in a whirlwind time of 1:10, Fletch was stubbornly ahead of me (as usual) and some upstart called Colin Donnelly. Just can't get the staff!
