So. I might have been getting a bit ahead of myself there in supposing old leggy was on the mend. A longish run or two later and it's been very sore again since Saturday. I was even reduced to limping along the train platform again on Monday morning. So, Not Good. I've felt pretty miserable and sorry for myself these last three days; even the bottom lip has developed scuff marks from all the dragging along the floor.
First thing Monday morning I booked myself a trip to the physio. M's prods at the sore bit of my calf on Sunday told me that it wasn't going to be pleasant. Thankfully this time I'd remembered to take a pair of balled socks to bite my way through the agony. I presented myself complete with my left leggy promptly at 2pm for a proper shake down. I was quite a brave soldier, accompanied unexpectedly by Coach Scobie who artfully mopped my brow. The treatment lasted over an hour and involved a whole range of prods and yanks, twists and contortions and searing, eye watering pain. However, after enduring the longest hour of my life (could childbirth be this bad?!) it was pretty good news.
The sore bits that I'd feared were giant balls of scrambled calf muscle were actually just points of nerve inflammation. I have a 'neural problem' and it seems to have been put right. The relief from the treatment was immense; they work magic those physios. I was reminded yet again of the stupidity in waiting so long to see someone; I'd have saved two weeks of fretting and worrying if I'd just gone there in the first place. You now have permission to tell me I'm as daft as a brush. It's now lots of balancing exercise, neuro stretches and regular drills with training back to normal within the week.