That's torn it

I went out last week for a run and experienced a bit of cramp in my calf muscle.

I was running an 'out and back' route.

Typically, It happened at the very furthest point away from the house.

I have never had it before (other than in the middle of the night when you least expect it).

It was pretty uncomfortable, but I decided that I would run it off.

That night it hurt quite a bit, and remained like that for a few days, so I stayed away from the running.

Then today I went out again and got about 200 yards before my leg refused to have any more weight put on it. I walked for a bit and tried again. Same reaction.

Oh dear. Very bad.

I rang my physio was was free in the afternoon.

"Are you still doing that marathon, Steve ?" he laughed when I arrived.

"That depends on your diagnosis".

I explained the problem, and he asked if I had stretched before my run today.

Well, sort of.

I have seen people 'stretching' on the telly and what not. So I had grabbed my ankle and waived it around a bit in the air, lunged like a musketeer and then contorted myself into unnatural positions against the wall.

He was unimpressed by this stretching description and decided to look at my leg.

He then pressed and punched my leg while I had a bit of a swear.

"Ah" he said "you have a slight tear in your short calf muscle"

"Is that common injury ?" I enquired.

"Yes, if you are a fatso who does no exercise and doesn't warm up properly"

Actually, he didn't say that, but I'm pretty sure I heard him think it.

As it turns out, by spending only £100 with him and giving it a few days rest I should be back on the pavements again next week.

Oh, And he showed me how to stretch properly.

Are dogs smarter than men ?

You may have noticed that it has been cold recently.

You may have also noticed sad, solitary, runners plodding along pavements with red faces, dripping noses and sagging shoulders.

You may have subconsciously turned up the heating in your car slightly as you drove past them.

I was one of them.

I got out of bed the other Saturday morning and changed into my running gear by the back door. The garden thermometer said minus 9.

The snow hadn't melted in my garden or along my road.

It was 8am and icy.

I prepared for a 4 mile run.

I then fully realised that this marathon was doing strange things to my sanity.
My  faithful companion of 9 years, my border collie Tom, a man's best friend, looked up at me from his bed in the back hallway and cocked his head to one side as I opened the back door and gestured for him to join me.

He didn't move.

He has never turned down a chance to go out in his life.

His look said it all.

He looked away, laid his head back down and closed his eyes.

Too bloody cold even for a dog.

I went for my run. My shoulders sagged, my face stung and my nose started running.

I'm sure the bloke in that car that drove past me just turned up his heating and laughed.