Life never goes to plan, especially when you have the immune system of a dead sea slug.
There I was, happily increasing my runs to a steady 8k, when I (stupidly) tried some new insoles. These pushed my feet up, and led to the most HIDEOUS blister on one ankle. Honestly, I think Tim Peake could probably see it.
So I thought: ‘Ah well, I’ll take a week off…the rest will do me good.”
Little did I know, I would contract The Plague. It started with lethargy… So much lethargy.
Then came the sneezing, the full-body aches and the fever (actually, the fever was quite nice – I was the only person in the office not wearing fingerless gloves when the heating broke.
It took over a week (and getting through my whole Netflix list) for me to feel even half human, which, coupled with the blister, means I haven’t run for nearly three weeks. And I’m still coughing.
To make things worse, my first 10k is just one month away and I am now starting to worry about something else… My heel. It’s always been sore underneath post-run and I was hoping that my accidental three week pyjama party might mean it stopped hurting, but no…
Dr Google thinks it’s plantar fasciitis so I’m making a physio appointment to hopefully get it sorted.