Less ‘Mobot’ and more Ministry of Silly Walks

1 September 2017 7:41AM

Disaster has struck. In fact, nothing is going right for me this year when it comes to exercise.

I had already come to terms with the fact that I’m really not at peak physical fitness to attempt a half marathon.

But I figured I’d get round the Great North Run with a bit of grit, determination and more than a litle bit of walking.

I’d resigned myself that I wasn’t going to get a true personal best, but I’ve signed up for the North Lakes Half Marathon in the new year in Lorton so I’m hoping that’ll be my proper half marathon.

So while I was not feeling optimistic, I was fairly confident I’d get round it okay.

Until Tuesday. I was off to a work meeting in Carlisle.

I was walking across the car park to my car at Energus (I always park in the furthest bay I can from the building, just to get my step count up), minding my own business.

All of a sudden, icy fingers of pain gripped my lower spine and squeezed. Really hard.

As my back went into spasm, I didn’t know if I was going to throw up or pass out.

Somehow, I made it to the car and got in the driver’s seat.

Closing the door was a bit of a literal stretch as the handle seemed like it was a long way away.

I’m wincing at the thought of that pain now.

I wouldn’t have minded so much if I’d decided to go all Monty Python across the car park and try out my own version of the Ministry of Funny Walks, waltzed across the expanse of asphalt or even sprinted.

All I did was walk.

Mind you, the last time my glass back shattered, I was brushing my teeth and had obviously hit a molar with a bit too much force.

Anyway, I made it to my meeting at Carlisle and hobbled around there, not gaining much sympathy.

I had my running stuff in the car, planning to get out after work to add on some more miles.

I had to cry off and went home instead, wimpering like a baby.

Wednesday, I made it into work but sitting was proving to be a problem and as I type this, my back is propped up by a pillow and I’m having to get up every 20 minutes or so to make sure I’m not seizing up.

My physio can’t fit me in and my Great North Run compatriot Dianne is starting to talk about deferring our places until 2018.

I can’t face it, I’ll feel like such a failure if we pull out now, especially as I’ve been going on about it for so long.

Our official numbers arrived this week, along with a handy guide to the event – and an amazing 15 per cent off the wonderful Runderwear, hurrah! – and it says the sweeper
vehicle travels at 17 minutes a mile.

If it’s going faster than you do, you’ll
be asked to leave the course and register as
a DNF.

I reckon I can walk faster than that and if I try to run a mile and walk a mile, I may be fit enough to complete it.

I’m going to time how long it takes me to walk a mile at the weekend and see if I can beat the sweeper.

This back is not going to beat me. I’ve got to get to the Great North Run.

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