I make it into work by car without my leg seizing and leaving me stranded on the A52. Then I book a physio appointment for 4pm, so that I can get the bad news confirmed.
So no running for three weeks, no racing for at least four. When I asked whether there was any chance of a half marathon after four weeks the physio looked at her feet and shook her head. Which may have been a ‘no’.
When I mentioned skiing she went sort of pale but conceded it could be possible with care, the right amount of alcohol and perhaps a little stupidity. So at least that was promising.
She recommended lots of gym work and swimming but I reckon L must have rang ahead to tell her to say that. It’s the sort of thing L would say.
The results for Sunday’s race are up. There were 2736 finishes in the half and one man limping across the line, as well as 460 in the 10k. So not a bad turnout considering the conditions.
I skip dog class, so that ruins MD’s night, as I sit with a ice pack on my leg instead, enviously watching Ski Sunday. Woe is me.
(Monday 5th March)
Aecht Schlenkerla Rauchbier - Part Two
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