Isn’t it wonderful how we willingly make complete eejits of ourselves in the pursuit of fitness?
As my dogged pursuit of a return to running continues; the indignities I have subjected myself to, are starting to pile up. The blows to my dignity were blessedly gentle in the beginning. As I became increasingly sedentary, I was occasionally asked – with a knowing smile – whether I had consumed all of the available pies. Of course, I couldn’t really be upset as the evidence of an expanding waistline was there for all to see.
I had to come to terms with my burgeoning mini-muffin-top.
Latterly, I had hoped that by helping out at club track-sessions that I’d keep in touch with the sport and my club-mates. As it turned out, I did – it worked. Unfortunately, the longer you hang around runners – when you’re no longer actually running yourself – the more rapidly you become a ‘former runner’.
Now I was a ‘former runner’ with a mini-muffin-top. Oh Joy!
Pressing on bravely, I found myself on a physiotherapy table in excruciating pain as delicate areas of my anatomy were systematically ground to a swollen, bruised and bloody pulp. I had now become a pudgy, former-runner with a limp.
Could it get worse?
Of course it could!
Part of my ‘recovery-programme’ has been to do some trampoline running. Think overweight, limping, delusional, former runner bouncing up and down for 40 minutes. Not a pretty picture I assure you. My physio tells me it’s to avoid the impact that road running would require, but I’m starting to think there’s another motive. In much the same way that some dodgy secret policeman might bring an unfortunate prisoner to their psychological knees; it may be that I’m being stripped of all dignity before I can run a mile pain-free once more.
Perhaps it’s all for the best.
Just a theory, mind you!
Karma’s a real drag.