Piece of cake

No this isn't a confession to a binge-athon today.  Referring simply to the exam this morning.   Even though the revision did get left until the train (which I knew it would do) I think I breezed it, yet again, proving that either I am seriously gifted or highly delusional.  Eventually this cavalier attitude will come and bite me on the bum, in the meantime however I am making the most of it.  In my defence I am well and truly oversubscribed in the to-do department, which I think God Himself appreciates thus answering my help-me please pleas.  So it's He who is gifted, not me.

After the exam I decided to treat myself....hell why not; my ethos is if you're already in debt a little bit more won't matter much.  Possibly why Accountancy is a debatable career choice for me.  Anyway in Birmingham there is a specialist running shop, (something which Telford lacks along side character, charm and a Nandos) and so I decided to pay a visit and purchase some new trainers.  This was as much a landmark event to me as completing my first race will be.  Visiting an actual running shop and saying those words "I am a runner" without having to cross my fingers behind my back, gave me a huge sense of pride.  Very quickly eradicated though when the Manager asked me to roll up my jeans and get on the running machine, in order that he could assess my gait.   I'm wearing jeans for heck's sake, and no sports bra, I think my gait is the last thing you'll notice if I get on that thing.  "What pace do you usually go at?" he asks whilst programming the machine.  Now should I lie to impress him, pump up my speed and risk being catapulted through the shop window when it all goes badly wrong?  No, probably that isn't so impressive.  So I confess...slow, slow, very slow, and then I come out with the biggest whopper I have told in a long time "yeah I've not long had my fourth child and I'm carrying a bit of extra weight right now".  Not long being three years ago.....what a sad little creature I am. 

Must have liked something about me however as when I got off he told me I had an eyelash on my face, said "shall I get it for you" then put forth his finger to remove it.  Next he asked me to make a wish (apparently connected to the eyelash thing though I have never heard it before) and then at the till  threw in a discount without me asking for any.  Either he fancied me or was ever so slightly mental, or both.   Maybe he was simply attracted by the idea of my mass fertility.  Still it's nice to know a girl has options.

I then couldn't wait to get home and try my new trainers out which I really hoped would help with my toe pain which has been getting progressively worse.  The man in the shop suggested that perhaps I am running on tip toes and need to learn to lengthen my stride a little.  Damn it I'm finding it hard enough just to make my body move in a forward direction let alone adding technicalities like that. 

Later on Corrinna and I did an on off jog  of about 3 miles and it was a disaster, or felt that way.  I didn't even make it to a mile and a half before the pain was excruciating and felt like someone was ramming hot pokers in to my toe joints....are they called knuckles too??  Well whatever they are, they hurt.  I think I need to get on the internet and do some research about the possible causes. 

If I am totally honest with myself I think I already know the answer.  I should have lost a significant amount of weight first before trying to inflict such pressure on my feet.  It's a bit of a chicken and egg like scenario (although if you are religious like me you already know the answer to that one).  But  I have set my sights on this race and I am absolutely loathe to quit.  So I shan't.  I'd be lying if I said it wasn't concerning me though.

In addition to the foot pain, my left knee is sore and cracks repeatedly and my right arm has a constant pain too.  The arm is nothing to do with running as I had it before (I mean the pain not the arm) and have  been referred to a specialist as the GP believes it to be tendinitis, unfortunately due to the waiting lists my appointment isn't until 2017.  Personally I feel like I am just falling to pieces.  At age thirty six my body seems to have decided to give up.  During the middle ages this would have been acceptable, in fact I would be considered exceedingly ripe right now and the chances of lasting another five years minimal.   As it stands in this era of modern medicine I am expected to live for another fourty years or more.  By which time I shall probably be limbless, obese and insane.  Just a rolling ranting torso.

And on the subject of ripeness, I stink.  Still haven't had a wash since my failed run, which even though unsuccessful rendered me rather sweaty and out of breath.  The one thing that still does.  Bathroom is calling to me.

Adios.