Last time out I ended with about the closest you’ll ever get to a cliffhanger from a blog about a chubby plodder chronicling his attempts to keep putting one foot in front of the other.
Would our hero defiantly pull on his stretchy shorts, lace up up his New Balances and manage to get back into his not-that-impressive-really groove, or would our leitmotif of the wear and tear plaguing the troublesome chunks of bone and cartilage halfway up his legs mean the end of our enthralling saga?
Well, the reality was a little bit of both, and a little bit of neither. I did manage to pull on my stretchy shorts, I did lace up my New Balances, and I got a couple of miles done in absolutely blistering heat. I even ended up accidentally doing it quite quickly, much to my surprise.
There wasn’t any dramatically adverse reaction in either knee, although it’s clear to me that neither feels ‘quite right’, with the left being a bit worse than the right. (What cruel irony – a Labour man like me being derailed by his own left). What I think I have to acknowledge now is that ultimately, these creaky knees have taken a lot of strain down the years and the countless twists, tweaks and tears of cartilage and ligament have taken their toll.
Faced with this realisation, I’ve got to accept that my next event (the Durham City Run 10k on Wednesday) simply isn’t going to happen for me. I’m still not sufficiently recovered from the set-back of the Great North 10k, so I think another one so soon would pose too great a risk of really screwing myself up.
I’m absolutely determined not to give up on the remaining two events I have left (the Great North Run and Morpeth Half Marathon), though. I’m definitely going to need to manage my training pretty carefully to have any kind of chance of surviving them.
Godspeed, old knees.