It’s the final countdown to the Half Marathon and my feet have decided to throw their dummies out of their pram and act like the true primadonas I have always suspected them to be.
One week ago I took my little princess feet off to see the Podiatrist and was sentenced to a lifetime of no running. Not much difference to my pre Royal Parks life, right? Well the difference now is that I have spent the past 6 months training and quite frankly I am not ready to just give up. Having dragged my little legs out in the rain and sun I am quite determined not to maintain what little momentum I have gathered. So I faced the news with a healthy dose of stoicism and have decided to treat my feet to the royal pampering they deserve.
After running to Bond Street last Tuesday night I went home, smothered my feet in ibuprofen gel and wrapped them in ice. Pleasant, right?
I managed to get a physio appointment for Friday and in the mean time I dutifully wore my trainers combined with my hideously large orthotics at any given time. Walking home, check. Making dinner, check. Doing the washing, check. Friday I chose to run a short 5k at lunch time which, I admit, was more painful than I had anticipated and off I went to physio. The sentencing was similar to the one the Podiatrist dished out. I am not to be an acclaimed marathon runner. Sadly my career as a sprinter has been cruelly ripped from my hands. No more is the possibility of taking over from Sally Gunnell. Instead I have an elastic red stretchy bit of material that I am to use to strengthen my ankles and I am not afraid to use it.
So my Friday night was spent in my trainers, of course, as was my Saturday. Saturday night I was careful to rest my little tootsies in preparation for the Finsbury Park 15km race I was to run on Sunday. Before I knew it, the time was upon me. It was time to put my crazy orthotics and newly strengthened ankles to the test. I enlisted my die hard crazy cousin to run alongside me and he gallantly joined having not slept a wink.
Sunday morning was quite honestly, horrific weather. To test out the tootsies I braved the elements and ran the full 15km in the hideous downpours. It was like Monsoon season without the heat. With each lap of Finsbury Park my sweat was washed away with more rain. But we did it. Coming in a cool 5th from last place, we passed the finish line with only a medium ache in my plodders.
Worry not, as soon as I was home and showered, there I was with ibuprofen gel rubbed in, ice packs on and feet raised. I was giving them the real attention they deserved.
Tuesday morning ahead of fasting tonight, I was up at 5.45 to run before work and this morning post fast there I was hitting the streets once more for the prescribed short run. With only 9 days to go, I can say with full confidence and not in slightest bit dramatic way, I cannot wait for this Half Marathon to be over.
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With less than a week to your half marathon (a distance which I feel is proportionally appropriate) all I can say is well done for all your hard, training and fighting through the pain. Even thou you're dreams of travelling to Brazil to compete in 4 years time have been dashed on the rocks of medical advice I know you will make it to the finish line this Sunday. Just one word of warning; with all this pampering your feet are getting be careful they don't change from primadonas to spoilt brats and expect that kind of treatment all the time.
ReplyDeleteGood Luck Amy
Robin