After rather a lot of running up and down hills last week I've only gone and done myself a mischief. The cheeky short race on Saturday was followed by a bit of a stiff left calf on Sunday. Being the responsive, sensible runner I am ;) I scaled down my long run plans on Sunday to a 12 miler; a rather monotonous but safe route near home, run at a very pedestrian pace. Anyways, despite my efforts to be good I've set off tonight for a pleasing jaunt around Bolton Abbey with M to find that my leg won't work. It seems to have decided to go on strike and I've a funny sensation that's lingering even after I've warmed up; a bit of an escalation from yesterday.
So, tonight I was a bit of a sad and lonely onlooker as M trotted off along the river whilst I looked longingly on, with rather sad puppy dog eyes. I turned reluctantly back to the car, limping dramatically and feeling rather sorry for my theatrical old self. Poor me. All pinkies crossed I can massage it back to do the business at Burnsall this weekend.