Wednesday, September 7, 2011

None of dem drugs get me high

Wednesday, September 7, 2011
This is all about running. You hate these ones. But you hate them because you're jealous. Like non-smokers hate smokers, like the skinny hate the obese. It's the comfort that all those latters obtain, that fucks with all your former minds.

My friend Emma is in a boot. Stress fracture in her foot. But not no ordinary stress fracture, at least not no more. This injury normally presents as a barely visible hairline crack. Her foot, she is informed, looks more like a splintered piece of wood. Why? Because she trained on it for three months. This is the running equivalent of injecting yourself in the groin, enduring extreme pain in search of that just one more big rush. She may never run again. Foolish? If you like. Understandable? Oh yeah. That running, that's some good shit.

While I was on my yearly nine month sabbatical from the land of Stranded, I finally got back on the road, in the park, by the beach. And it was going very, very well. I was creeping over the 40 mile a week mark, putting in six mile threshold efforts at 6am, knocking out 20k Sundays. I ran a couple of races, dropped under 70kgs. All these sweet sweet numbers, speaking of a real return to form. And then, just before the first peak race, in a fucking Yoga class, I did something moronic. And hey presto, I've got a Grade One tear in the attachment of my left adductors. I ran on it. Of course I ran on it. And it really fucking hurt. So I ran a little faster. The pain followed, as it does. Thus reluctantly and on the advice of my miracle working physio, I let go of my Strawberry Half plans and went back on the methadone bike. If I was rich I could go under the knife, have the bad bit hacked out and a good bit reattached. But I need to work, and work doesn't hurt, so I just have to let it heal. Six months is the optimistic prognosis, though I doubt that takes account of all the biking, all the squatting, all the lunging. None of these activities cause actual aggravation, but the odd twinge and dull ache makes me suspect that they're not really helping. I try a little jog every now and again. Instant discomfort and the promise of something way beyond. So I just have to wait it the fuck out.

Or do I? If Emma can run on a broken bone for three months, why the fuck am I being such a wuss? It's just a little searing pain in the groin. The half-heartedly stifled groans of agony as I climb the stairs are surely something to which my family can adjust themselves. Htfu, motherfucker. Yeah, yeah, there's that 'may never run again' niggle. But that's a 'may' right there. And these medicine talkin' guys are always saying shit like that. Every alcoholic gets told that another drink will kill them, so they go for a pint to calm the nerves and does it kill them? No. Or rarely. Or not immediately. 

So. Anyone up for a quick jog around St Anne's?   

6 Johns and Janes for the comment whore:

Conan Drumm said...

The way I look at it, from the sofa, is that if we ignore the signs and the warnings we end up walking around being deafened by some part of our body screaming 'I TOLD YOU SO!' for the rest of our days.

Still getting twinges from the thing what snapped in my leg several years ago... and that was a six month mend too.

grimsaburger said...

I'm having some dull hip and IT band pain that I'm convincing myself is due to all the office-sitting and car-driving I'm doing lately. Who knows, really? Shouldn't I up my mileage to find out? It'd be irresponsible to do otherwise.

Rosie said...

i bit my tongue and now i have one of those owy little blisters on the side of it that stings when i drink tea.

you're right. i hate these ones.

sniffle said...

soon , you'll move to a bungalow and later add a gently inclining ramp to the front door - the children will visit only occasionally, cause the pain makes you cross.

today's word is oiddi - too close really, to odd.

torn adducter - there is a pre-internet story of a man, who the week after making his international debut, complained about " a twinge in his hammer" which was more than slightly bogus in that, he didn't know he had hamstrings the previous week

Anonymous said...

ah fuckit a few pints'll sort ye all out

Gimme said...

Someone didn't read the title of the post.

Though I suspect that this omission won't stop most of us giving your advice the old college try.

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