Why me?
It seems that no sooner am I back on my feet, some new disaster strikes. Last weekend’s running plans were scuppered by the combination of a sore throat and a sudden, unexpected attack of drunkenness; then yesterday, when I was just 1.384 miles (SDMs are wonderful things) into my planned long run, I tripped over on an uneven canal towpath, and gouged lumps of flesh from my right knee and both palms.
Horribly embarrassing, and very painful. Sometimes, do you wish you were a kid again, and could just wail away your traumas…? You do? Blimey, how pathetic you are. I try to take a more manly approach.
After struggling to my feet, hoping that no one had seen me, I walked on for a while, then eventually began running again. It really did hurt, but I managed to do 7.5 miles, another slight advance on the recent increase in mileage.
When I got home I performed open-knee surgery with a safety pin and some tweezers, and after much poking and scraping, managed to remove a sizeable lump of sharp grit from my ripped flesh. It was about… oh, 6 inches in length, and must have weighed about 3 kilos at least. I must hang onto it or no one will believe me. Let’s just say it would make a damn good door-stop.
Today the knee is sore and bloody, and wasn’t improved by having to travel into London, along with the rest of my limbs, where it helped to tie up a few loose ends before we all head for Israel tomorrow. I’ll have to monitor its progress, but the firm plan is to get some good running in while I’m away. I have to. With only two and a half weeks to go till the Great North Run, I’m desperately short of fitness. If I can run most days and fit in a couple of ten milers I’ll be happy.
Beginning to look forward to the trip. Should be interesting. (And hot. About 95F at the moment.) Work will take up most of my time, but I’m determined to have a couple of adventures as well as do some running. I’ll be keeping the running commentary going while I’m there, so do come along for the ride.
People keep asking me if I’m nervous about going there, and the answer is no. Travel, and seeing new places, are among life’s great pleasures for me, and the statistics will always provide reassurance. I suspect that London in the 1970s, when the IRA were bombing pubs and shops, was no worse than Tel Aviv is right now. It was just a little unfortunate that the day I heard I was going, was the day of the Jerusalem bus bomb that killed 20 people, quickly followed by the Israelis bumping off some Hamas leaders, and the Hamas announcement that “revenge will sweep far and wide into every corner of the Jewish state”. Added to this was the advice to travellers I read on an Australian government website that suggested that travel to Israel was completely safe as long as you avoided hotels, restaurants, shopping areas, public buildings and all forms of public transport.
But if I do get bumped off, let’s hope that I manage to see the England match on Saturday before I flutter off to Hell.
I can just see myself queuing up in front of those scorched gates thinking “Crikey, and I thought a grazed knee was bad news…”
