Pride comes before a fall… 12 Oct

Although in this particular case, prosecco actually came after the fall.

Rewind to yesterday evening, me and Mr JCR going out for dinner to a nice fish restaurant in Fano, Cile’s as it happens. We are a little early, so decide to have aperitivi in Bar Must (yes there’s lots of weird English word combinations).

With my eyes firmly on the prize of a nice table for two, I stride confidently forward down an unseen step. And trip, not a swallow dive, but very Dick Emery and his Mandy character (my how that dates me). I definitely felt a twinge in the groin area, but recovered sufficiently to enjoy the prosecco. Really no big deal at all.

Today’s semi ambitious plan was to crack 8.5km, and I thought the best way of doing that was to do it at the Fano pista, the running track where men dress in a notable manner. This is almost flat and a 2.2km circuit, I thought if I could do more or less 4 circuits I’d be fine. Cue lights, camera and action. I stepped out in my kit, started to get the music, Map My Run and my keys organised, then when my money fell out of my phone holder all on the track, my how the two roller bladers laughed. I adopted the standard London snooty pose and carried on, first km fine, second km am a bit warm so remove extra top and take it back to the car. Entering the pista again I managed to trip over thin air and pulled the self same areas of my right leg. This is known as Stupid Tart Syndrome and I suffer from it quite a bit.

Anyway I carried on, ignoring the twinge, that was becoming an ache, that was becoming a pain and managed to overtake 4/5 wunners. At about 4km mark, it is clear that ‘Houston we have a problem’, the groin pull is mirrored by a pull on the inside of my right knee and my right hamstring. For distraction purposes, I spot that the lampposts seem to be numbered sequentially and thought they were about 100m apart. My new cunning plan is to run 10 lampposts which in JCR land, equates to a km. Except that mechanical voice lady from Map My Run is suspiciously quiet…

Stupid Tart Syndrome strikes again, the lampposts are just numbered and they are not actually 100m apart. This compromises my plan to do 40 lampposts to finish. At this stage my right leg is quite painful, therefore I wait for mechanical voice lady to tell me it has been 5km and the second she did, I stopped running.

Upshot is, when suffering from Stupid Tart Syndrome, do not set ambitious targets, do not change venues and finally never rely on lampposts.

 

Playlist

Blue Monday – New Order

World in Motion – ditto

Rumour Has It – Adele

Everything Must Go – The Manics

Maid of Orleans – OMD

Beat It – Michael Jackson

Let’s Dance – David Bowie

Ruby – Kaiser Chiefs

Rain on Your Parade – Duffy

Rockferry – Duffy

Stats

Distance 5.02km

Time 33.22

Avergage Pace 6.38 min/km

Elevation Gain 10 Metres

Fastest km 6.26

In fact, this has been one of my fastest runs to 5km. Speed and Stupid Tart Syndrome obviously combined today.

No Squats as Muscles too painful!

Face Colour – Sick as a parrot green….

6 thoughts on “Pride comes before a fall… 12 Oct

  • Oh nooooooo !!! You being on the IC is a disaster as we love your posts … time to take your own advise and be sensible …., bet the prosecco delicious though 🥂
    By the way I love the STS reference — yet another one I could easily adopt 😜

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    • Hi Pauline – I know how bloody stupid am I, two injuries falling off a step…. It’s not like mountaineering is it? So I am walking a bit like John Wayne aka Dick Emery’s Mandy. Had planned to run this morning, but not going to happen. I may go for just a walk tomorrow in my running gear, just in case it feels okay. Stupid Tart Syndrome crosses into real life too – I thought we had a man on our roof this morning… Bearing in mind Mr JCR is out and we were burgled a few months back, what do I decide to do, but go out to tackle said man, in my pyjamas saying in a loud ‘Margot from the Good Life’ voice “excuse me, hey you up there”
      What was actually on the roof – six sparrowy type birds burrowing under the terracotta roof tiles, I don’t suppose they understand English!

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  • My commiserations for your fall. I have only fallen once in nearly three years of running (MM hastily touches wood) but I gouged an impressive hole in my knee and elbow, without even mentioning the damage to my ego. Friends and family eagerly pointed out that running on the 1st January after generously plying oneself with G&T’s, various local wines and bubbly until the small hours of the morning is not a very good idea, and may have been more responsible for my tumble than the poor hole in the road, which had always been there and still is.

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