Mediocre Cat Whispering

An awesome set of back to back runs this weekend thanks to my marvellous physio!

It's only taken me four and a half years, but the message seems to be getting through (there must have been a glimmer of signal in my brain!). If something hurts like somebody is stamping on it, you need to stop. Stop. Stop now, Shauney... Shauney, for the love of God woman will you sit on your arse!!
I'm going to entirely blame the type trainers I bought, and not the fact I was doing too much on the nasty, evil tarmac which I know fine well I shouldn't be running on more than once a week.

Halfway through the first section of the two back to back runs I had planned two weeks ago, my shin and opposite foot were telling me to **** off, with the kind of pain that makes you push your teeth hard together and stare fixedly ahead, humming like a mad woman. After seriously considering the strength and dosage of painkillers I would need to get through the next day's run, the light bulb must flickered on for a brief moment in my addled brain. I needed a week of rest and there might be a chance I could do my first back to backs the following week. Push the shredded fibres through the second run and I'd likely be out for a month. I don't really have a month of buffer time...

So, after realising the paracetamol I had found in my hydration pack (amazing what you find from previous stupid sessions!) wasn't really touching the shooting pains after twelve or so miles, I reluctantly pulled out Nelly the trusty Nokia and phoned my lovely daddy.
"Daaaaddd...?"
"Uh huuuuh...?"
"I kind of need picked up... I'm a little bit sore..." She says, with her tail between her legs and the most sorry-for-herself expression on her face.

Giving myself a mental reprimanding in dad's nice, heated truck for even considering still taping the s**t out of my foot and shin, dosing up on the painkillers and doing tomorrow's run anyway, I sensibly planned a week off and messaged my physio.
My physio knows me well enough to know I only ever roll up at her door when I'm all broken, and so, in response to my message asked "What's happened?". No, no Kirsty, I'm just taking care of myself like you've been telling me to for three years now...honest! Ahem...

So, with the wheels threatening to fall off, I did just that, and rolled up at Kirsty McCubbin's door to have my legs thoroughly abused... I mean massaged...

Coming away far sorer than I cared to admit, I tentatively tested out the gammy bit in my foot (forever technically minded) a couple of days later and found it to be holding quite well (at least not making the sporadic crunchy noise now!). Time for the back to back runs to begin before I ran out of time altogether!

15 miles on the dreaded road on Saturday night (God, I know how to live it up), finishing at 11.30pm (way past my bedtime) and the second 15 miler in the hills on Sunday morning, starting at 6.30am. 

AND, and and and... my legs and feet felt fantastic!! Disaster averted! I was also given a helping paw from Edith the cat on my homework last night during those in between hours... 🐈🐱

Finishing up in front of the beautiful Balintore Castle on Sunday morning, having done 6 hours of training, covering 30 miles in the last 13 hours, I was positively beaming with excitement! Everything was still intact (if somewhat bloody stiff) and I hadn't wasted away to the point of not being able to cover long distances! (As I was beginning to convince myself was the case...)

I've got everything crossed that this luck continues and I arrive in Stirling on the 29th of September for the 50 mile Ochil Ultra, feeling good and ready! 

The plan is to go from here, to the West Highland Way Ultra, to the Jungle Ultra (in three easy leaps here on paper!) with as many combat veterans in tow as will let me convince them it's a good idea, raising as much money as possible for the charities who support them the most.

Signing out, the cat whispering runner (that's a lie, she was growling at me the whole time!)