Disaster…Or is it?

They say week is a long time in politics. Well in the life of little old me, same rules apply (a wee ‘Filth’ reference for all you Irvine Welsh fans there.)
This week has had more ups & downs than Donald Trump’s barnet in a force 10 gale and unfortunately the downs have won it by a landslide.

I’ll start with the running itself. despite having regularly ran 7 & 8 milers midweek in Glasgow, with some 12 & 14 mile runs thrown in, I decided to stick to a safe 5 miler on my first night back in London. The journey is part of the way home from work. To say I struggled would be an understatement. lots of stoppages, suffering from a stich for about 80% of the run, oh and to top if off, I left my GPS watch in the office, so I didn’t even have a way of timing my pace (this may have been a blessing in disguise)
Tuesday, I felt really, really tired in the morning so cancelled my planned run. I went to the doctors to finally get the verdict of my MRI scan on my old bionic knee.
The MRI showed no obvious degredation of the reconstructed ACL, and no sign of meniscal tears. In short, there was nothing that would require any surgical intervention. I was delighted, and immediately guilty that I hadn’t run that morning.

Wednesday, Ran home the whole way from work. A hilly 7.6 miles, and compared to Glasgow the weather was very mild, so I did it with just a t-shirt on. (shorts & trainers too obviously you dirty bugger) I felt great the whole way, worlds away from Monday’s shorter run. (a lot of it was exact same route, so no obvious difference)
Buoyed by Wednesday’s success I got up on Thursday to run into work. A reverse of the same 7.6mile route. At 6 miles I started to feel a pain in my knee, my so called “good” knee, the left one. after another 100 yards it had rapidly ramped up in the pain stakes, so I had to stop. I figured I won’t be silly and risk anything so headed for the nearest DLR station to finish my journey to work. 15 mins later I was hopping up stairs at Canary Wharf, barely able to bend my leg.
I managed to get a physio appointment same day. Leighton, my Kiwi physio thought I was there to share the good news about my MRI.
unfortunately not, and I left his office as glum as I’ve been since I started my training. The early diagnosis is ITB syndrome and there’s no wonder cure other than rest. So I have to miss all my runs this weekend (it was one of the biggies I had planned too) and return for more physio on Tuesday.
Its a common injury for runners doing multiple miles repeatedly apparently.

I also now have a stinker of a cold & Saskia, my car, has stopped working. (yes I named her, doesn’t everyone?)

What struck me, more than anything however was how fleeting my misery was.
A few months back a day like Thursday would have had my mind self-imploding but after the initial disappointment I started to rationalise things pretty quickly, and seeing some more donations come into my fund raising page helped me look at the big picture.
I said in my Just Giving Page that there was a good chance I might end up doing the marathon on crutches if I have to. Albeit I didn’t expect it to be my ‘good’ knee that would be the cause.

Yes I want to beat my previous marathon time of 4hr 19, and yes I want to run the whole way, but I’m already £1,100 over my initial target of £2.5k for SANDS with 6 weeks left to go.
I don’t know if it’s solely the pavement therapy, the blog writing, having a cause to work towards or a combination of all of them and the fact I can see tangible support from family & friends by way of the donations (& blog follows) but I’ve definitely managed a few more notches towards half full, from half empty recently and long may it continue.
Besides, if everything went to plan, this blog would be even more boring than it currently is (yes, it is possible).

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m away to ice my knee & look out my old crutches. Just in case.

Graeme.

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