A Very Bad Idea

I run into work today from my parent’s house, which is where I leave my car. Well, I attempt to. It turned out to be a very bad idea all round. I get about a mile into it and my calf goes again. Not good. In fact, very bad. I probably should have gone back to get the car but I soldiered on, power walking most of the way as even jogging was too painful. It’s a reoccurrence of last week’s injury and if a week of not running hasn’t cured it then it’s doubtful that I’ll be fit for my next 10k race which is in two weeks time. Still 56 minutes isn’t too bad for what must have been around 10k of walking.

L is quick off the mark, making it clear she’s not volunteering to cover my 10K for me. Says she’d rather eat her trainers than do two loops of Holme Pierrepont rowing strip in a pink Parkinson’s Society t-shirt. We’re assuming here that the free race t-shirt will be pink as that is that charity’s colours.



So I’m sat at work with my leg up on another chair, with the phone constantly going as the staff downstairs continually try to get me to come down, purely so that they can watch me hobble down the stairs. Unsympathetic bunch. Now I’ve just got to work out how I’m going to get back to my car tonight. Then later I might need L and her rolling pin again.

So there’s also not much point Googling for the Whinlatter Duathlon which is on next week when we’re in the Lakes. More’s the pity.

It’s the 6th November and we get our first Christmas card. I urge L to send it back but she doesn’t. People say Christmas is but one day a year. Huh? It most certainly is not and this is proof. They’ll be having tinsel in the shops and putting the Christmas lights up next. What? You mean they already have.

The card is from abroad naturally but why do people still think that cards posted abroad come by camel across the desert and take two months to arrive, they do not, even when the postal service is doing its best to slow things down and lose as much mail as possible.

I pick up the phone and thumb a lift off my Father in order to get back to my car. He’s very accommodating like that. Then we go to the match where I’ll be in no fit state to jump around with excitement but naturally I’m not expecting any but... cue dramatic drum roll, Derby actually win the game. Christmas (oops) has clearly come early.