Visited the physiotherapist this morning to see if there was anything that she could do for me, in the final stretch leading up to the marathon. I have been prodded, poked, probed, twisted, bent double and been subjected to a barrage of questions. Upon inspection, there doesn’t seem to be any real damage and the foot itself is fine. The physiotherapist recommended a few stretches that I shall do to help me. Then she rubbed some lubricating jelly-like substance onto my lower leg and gave me an ultrasound. I was half-tempted to ask if I was going to have a boy or a girl. Following that, she stuck some patches onto my leg and plugged electrodes to them and sent an electric current through me for about fifteen minutes. Overall, I think it helped, and I am going back there on Tuesday evening. I think I’m going to be all right now.
I turned up at my secondary school on Wednesday. I attended that school between the years of 1995 and 2002, so it had been a fair while since I was last on the premises! Some of the pupils there were taking part in a sponsored run in the streets surrounding the school, all to benefit my marathon fundraising. The whole thing had been carefully planned and coordinated as if it were a military operation. I was asked to come along in order to give the proceedings a bit more authenticity. It is, after all, better for the pupils doing the running to see who they are doing it for. By meeting them and explaining why I was running the marathon for the RNID, it gave them a sense of perspective. I think. I hope. It was a lovely day for a run, and the kids really got into the spirit of things, even the ones, who I was told weren’t particularly known for making much movement!
At the end of an hour’s running (or walking as some chose to do), I awarded a prize to the person that had run the most laps of the school perimeter (seven). I also awarded a prize to the best costume – the decision was easy. It was a blonde lad who had decided to put on a nice pink bra. I figured that anybody who had the sheer gall to run around the local streets sporting a bright pink brassiere deserves a prize for his efforts.
The local paper never did turn up. I guess they didn’t consider the story remotely newsworthy. A shame really. It kind of belittled the sterling effort put in by the kids who really did work hard. I was not expecting much money to be raised from the afternoon, but I was told that between everybody, an astonishing £250-£300 was raised. Fantastic, really, and very much appreciated.
So you’re thinking: “enough about the bloody children and their running. We want to know about you!” OK. Since my last post, I’ve done a bit more running and a bit more resting, and I think it’s fair to say that my foot is very nearly healed. There’s no question of me pulling out of the marathon. Definitely not. Most certainly not. I will cross that finish line by any means necessary, fair or unfair. Perhaps this injury was a blessing in disguise. Before I became injured, I was beginning to become complacent, and rather getting bored of the long runs every weekend. Now this has made me more determined than ever. It’s fuelled a great anger and burning desire to complete the race. As I said in one of my first posts, this is going to be my first marathon and as such, I don’t have a finishing time in mind. I just want to complete the bloody thing. As my running technique improved, I did start to get a finishing time in my head – but that can wait for another year. This is my first marathon and I don’t have a time to beat; that can come next year when I attempt to beat whatever my time will be this year.
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