The one where I really don't want to be "Off Games"

Corporal - like butter wouldn't melt...

"I would advise that you do not run."

How I used to long for such words in my youth - especially on a cold grey day like today. I hated games especially lacrosse which I was next to completely useless at. That feeling of inevitable dread that would settle on one as a 14-year old, as you watched the skies getting greyer and the relentless march of the minute hand on the clock taking you to the appointed hour of your doom - the Games lesson.

But now I don't like to hear those words at all - I want to run, I need to run, I've got a marathon in less than three months!

It all started with me landing my head on Friday. And it really wasn't my fault at all. I was doing everything I should and doing it properly but as I was reminded probably not properly enough. "If you'd been sitting well back and not tipping forward you'd probably have stayed on."

Probably.

Not definitely.

To be honest I don't remember what happened. The last thing I recall is trotting over a dry water tray on Corporal, the white-faced cob, and feeling pretty pleased with myself in that  he went over it without a murmur...the next thing I remember I was getting up from the ground and not quite sure exactly why. My head was ringing and I could have sworn that the horse and rider I was looking at really should not have been there, they should have been behind me not in front.

After getting my bearings I remounted and continued the lesson, trying very hard to put all the pieces together and not really succeeding.

I seemed OK and got home later feeling a tad discombobulated.

The next day I surely felt what had happened with an uncomfortable case of whip lash, headache and sore back. Thank heavens I had been wearing my hat and body protector - as I obviously do not bounce anymore!

Headaches soon cleared away and apart for a good rest I didn't think anything of it - I mean I went to ride again twice at the weekend and one of those included a show jumping competition! But I wasn't daft enough to run.

Come Monday I was getting a bit stir crazy re the running but because my back was painful thought I had better hold off for 24 hours. Come Tuesday I thought sod it and went out for a quick four miler and that is when it became uncomfortable, the pain building with every step, so that by the time it came to the evening  I could barely sit down!

Thus emergency call to the doctor today and the resulting "Off Games" slip - I've only gone and bruised my kidneys with the force of the fall and they are not happy that I did not get my head checked as well - I tried to tell them it was a lost cause, there was no point getting my head checked as I am considered as mad as a box of frogs anyway!

So as well as the bruised kidney I also have a mild case of concussion...

"So when can I run again?"

"When it is better but  if you run now it will only get worse!"

Oh how I wish I could tell my 14 year old self that  I should take all the days I can running about as one day it won't just be a case of not being able to, I won't be allowed to!

Doc says I will probably be alright by next week...

Probably

Not definitely....

 

Looking like something the cat sicked up…

When I next manage to go out running I am going to look like something the cat sicked up. And I will do this voluntarily. I will walk out of the house knowing exactly what I look like, which will be seen by my mother as a step in the right direction, as I have never been known to check what I look like before leaving the forgiving environs of my own home.
In fact I have never been known to check what I look like even within my own home, as for many years my dressing mirror was obscured by a huge pile of pictures waiting to be hung on the walls. It wasn’t until recently when the walls were ready for pictures to grace them that I remembered there was a looking glass in my dressing room. It came as quite a shock, I can tell you. I could not figure out who the slightly crazed apparition was before me, I couldn’t remember having a portrait of my Grandmother and then it dawned on me that I was looking at myself – a far cry from the image I had been carrying around in my mind all these years. That had been of a more youthful version, less grey, slightly firmer round the jaw, more defined. I’d like to say that when I finally brushed the dust off the mirror I was all I ever was, but reality, like bright mirrors, is harsh.
However, I digress, despite the changes wrought in me over the years, there are many who can verify that I don’t look like cat sick on a daily basis. No, the reason why I will be looking highly dubious, is that The Boy and The Littlest feel I need to be seen. I need to be violently seen or seen violently. To be honest anyone who does see me will attest to the violence of the apparition that will be me. I just hope I won’t be the cause too many accidents for that is the whole reason why the Boys are determined Mum will be seen.
They have just watched a video all about The Girl Who Didn't Dress Bright in the Dark part of the Government’s road safety campaign this winter and having worked out that they have plenty of bright stuff to be seen in it has dawned on them that their erstwhile parent goes out training for the Flora London Marathon dressed head to toe in black.
Now, the whole point of running attire is that it is black, or at least a dark colour, because that is what is the MOST flattering for the majority of us who run. Come off it, not all of us are built like whippets especially those who have only just taken up the call. I mean there have to be some perks as you abase yourself publicly on the open road. In fact I have taken to silently saluting the courage, chutzpah and well, just down right grit of all those ladies young and old I note jogging round Stowmarket and its environs – J-Lo eat your heart out the booty on these sisters is magnificent to behold!
Having raided my drawers, chests, cupboards, and an unending variety of boxes, bags and other interesting receptacles in the hunt for things eye wateringly bright the boys settled on an array of garments and accessories that when added together look like something the cat sicked up and I am going to have to wear it. The things I am doing to raise money for my charity Epilepsy Action I am beginning to feel are beyond the call of duty...
The violence of the ensemble would make even Vivienne Westwood pale. Upon my head is an old red cycling bandanna appliqued with day glo yellow pom poms left over from my Parent Trumping Christmas Card making blitz last year, this is teamed by an awe inspiring, and again day glo yellow, oversize jumper with 1980’s string vest top twist also in day glo yellow and adorned with silver stripes both front and back. My once pristine Nike trainers have been customised with pink sparkly pom poms tied to the laces. Around each cuff I have old bicycle lights, which I am told, most seriously, I will have to have switched to intermittent flash for the best protection. My worry is not for myself anymore but to other poor innocent road users…luckily though I have yet to recover sufficiently from the dreaded lurgy to launch myself upon an unwitting audience - take heed now they won't let me incarcerated for long however much I cough!