Im now immersed in the world cup like everybody else but I still remember when I used to do a bit of running. Wont be doing any more for at least a couple of months though.
Bierzo Baggie Wrote:I was walking at the time and I fell down a hole. Managed to hobble home though....
Oops, Ive just re-read the above and it sounds like I fell down a well shaft or something. I didnt. It actually happened on fairly flat terrain where I stepped into some sort on hole and twisted my ankle. Id like to say that I injured myself spectacularly on a section of vertiginous descent. Nothing so glamorous. I wasnt even running at the time. I was walking along, chatting to some fellow and feeling quite pleased with myself to tell the truth when
a misplaced foot, a sharp twist, a crunching of ligaments (dont know if ligaments crunch
these ones did!) and a shot of pain through my central nervous system which seemed to scream take that you tw
! Ouch.
Id just passed the abandoned village of Ferradillo. Id always known the place was cursed. Or had the hole been left strategically by the cows that were watching me with bemusement from the shade of a huge walnut tree? Revenge perhaps for taking the mick out of their herdsmen.
So, I suspect it was punishment for something or other. Id dared think that I could be a fell runner; that I could overtake people running downhill; that Id miraculously fortified my ankles over the last few years so that they were now unbreakable; that I could get through this free of suffering
and be back for lunch! Poor deluded fool.
Lunch was actually an excuse. After reading Andy and Sweders marathon posts Id decided that what I needed was to inject a bit of tension into my running and a spot of intensity into my writing about it. I picked up rather more intensity than Id bargained for and three hours of mostly downhill hobbling followed in excruciating pain. My just returns for daring to laugh at the running gods?
Now, nearly two weeks later, I still cant understand how I could have been stupid enough to carry on, but at the time I dont think it actually sank in. Having flown down the rocky slopes of Truchillas, having ridden the biting tackles of Oscar the undertaker, having survived the descent from the mares saddle, it seemed like some sort of poetic justice that I could injure myself in such an innocuous manner. Finished, but it was all too painful to gleam any real satisfaction from.