On days like this I could do with my own personal (cheap) cheerleading squad. I would like them to be quite burly cheerleaders, so that they can occasionally carry me. Would you like to be my burly cheerleader? All applications will be considered, and where you keep your gonads is a moot point. Uniforms will be gender neutral. Some experience of singing and dancing is expected, but on the job training with batons and pom poms can be provided.
No, hang on, I’ve gotten off track. I’m very tired.
The plan was to do two runs today, back to back. Thirteen miles, and eleven miles. A sort of rehearsal for how The Wall will be run next month (the 69 mile route is punctuated by five food stations, so my plan is to run, rest for fifteen to thirty minutes, then run to the next one, etc).
All was well on the first run, going nice and slow, until about the ninth mile when my foot literally* exploded. I thought it was a cramp at first, and still sort of hope it is. I tried to walk it off, a disappointed sort of hobble. Five miles later I hobbled through my front door, sore and exhausted.
When I took my shiny new ultra shoes off, my foot started to feel better. This is probably a clue. It’s still not right, but there’s good reason to hope I’ll be back on the road in a couple of days. Last weekend I did a twenty mile run, so I’m fairly confident it wasn’t the mileage.
So I may need to look into alternate running shoes. These ones are pretty stiff, with some kind of foot protection plate in the sole. I think that’s probably the problem – I’m so used to very flexible shoes that the extra support/protection is actually messing me up. These may not be the shoes I’m looking for.
Meh. Still, it’s not a proper training period if things don’t go magnificently wrong at least once.
You probably feel dead sympathetic and stuff now. Oh no, you’re probably saying to yourself, if only I could do a thing to make Rick feel better! I’LL BE YOUR CHEERLEADER RICK!
That’s probably going too far, so instead I’ll just park this right here and hobble away whistling..
*Not literally. The other thing. Where I say something but it didn’t actually happen**.
***No, not lying. The classy one. Metaphor. That’s it.