30 April 2014

The Run Diary - Week 11 - Berk Time.

So here we are - just under three weeks now until I run 23 kilometres.

In fact, if you want me to be accurate it's 18 sleeps.

And I have a broken toe.  And a cold.

How do I know I have a broken toe?  Because the hospital x-rayed it and told me.  How do people normally know they have a broken bone unless it's the kind of break which sticks out sideways and spurts blood.  It's been the question most people have asked me - how do I know?  It's odd that people would self diagnose a break often enough that people assume toe fractures are ALWAYS self diagnosed.

Anyway, I digress.  It's meant a week of not running.  And technically it will take 6-8 weeks to fully recover.  But as you know, I don't have that time.  So I'm being one of those berks who run regardless. The thing is - I'm confident that the pain will be mostly gone as it's come on great guns in the last few days, and if it hurts like a horrible thing at the end of the 23 kilometres - who cares?  I will have done the run and there will be wine.

Medicinal obviously.
Lisa and I obviously share friends
And the cold, well it's stayed off my chest so far so it shouldn't make any difference.  The difference is more likely to be evident from the two weeks without having completed a stupidly long run because we're about to enter 'taper' phase.

This is where you spend a couple of weeks running half the distance so your body can recover and be ready for race day.

My body has the rest of it's life to bloody recover from the 23 kilometres.  In the meantime it's just going to have to swallow some cement and harden up.  Because I have to fit in a 20 kilometre run before I can start all this tapering business.

And my last long run was interrupted by an unwise lunch choice.  The great thing about that unwise lunch choice was it was a)delicious and b) I ran the fastest kilometre I've ever run to get to the closest example of modern day plumbing.  The less great thing was the amount of time I spent gazing at the back of a toilet door at the new Holbroyd Rowing Club.  Very swish.


And then I broke my toe before I had the chance to re-do that. And I have to fit in that 20 kilometres. I really do.

It's not a running obsession, I just don't like being thwarted.  And by a toe.  Honestly, I would have accepted a broken leg as the result of a heroic leap in front of a car to save the life of an orphan but a broken toe because I accidentally stubbed my toe on the couch?

It's ridiculous.  So I'm taking the seven days 'rest' period like a good girl and then I'm being a berk.

Who knew I had it in me?

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