“You notice I am walking very gingerly.”

Lieutenant Gruber, Allo Allo

Monday 7th September – After defying the odds and completing 20 miles with what I thought was an injured foot, I’m feeling like the cock of the north today.

The foot feels fine, the rough stuff is done, bring on the Marathon.

By early evening though, it’s all change. I do my 30 minute yoga and start to feel the foot again.

After that, I do my weights session and, dare I say it, I get the first ping of pain in it.

Bollocks.

In fact, before I head to bed that night I swear my ankle has swollen up a tiny bit. I can’t tell if I’m just imaging it or not.

Anyway, it’s not a great finish to the day and I’ve somehow managed to kick the confidence from yesterday out of myself.

To complicate matters, it’s the Great North Run on Sunday. I’m not planning to do nowt daft, but I was still planning on running it faster than a usual long run.

I just have to get there first.

Tuesday 8th September – Tonight is a track session. This should be interesting.

I head out for my warm up and everything feels ok. My head is not in a great place though. I’m worried that I’m going to get injured, worried that I’ll make things worse, so my mindset is just to make it through every run.

That’s not great. It means I’m not enjoying it, and it makes me tight and much harder work than it should be. I can’t relax, basically.

Tonight’s track is 1200m at 10k pace, a 200m jog, then 400m at 5k. Do this 4 times.

It’s hard work. Again, half of it is mental. Halfway round I can feel my Achilles grumbling. I actually think about calling it quits after the third set.

Instead, I grit it out and finish. At this point, I’m not sure what’s the worse – the foot or my head.

It’s going to be a long two weeks.

Wednesday 9th September – Despite last nights intense session, the foot feels ok.

One thing I will say at the moment, I’m sleeping like a baby. A baby that sleeps really well by the way.

The foot doesn’t bother me all morning and I do as little as possible on it, just sitting at my desk and working.

By lunchtime though, it’s back to niggling me again. I pop on the strapping, take some ibuprofen, and by mid afternoon it’s eased.

However, such is the rollercoaster ride of this fucking injury, it’s bothering me again when it’s time to go out for my easy 6 miles.

I get out and I’m not 100% comfortable from the start, or at any point during the run to be honest.

By the end, the foot feels a bit sore and for the first time I’m worried. When I get in, I do some stretching and foam rolling and just get into bed.

I take a good proper look at it for the first time , even popping my phone light on, and I can’t see any bruising or any obvious swelling. It may be swollen a tiny bit, but if it is, it’s not noticeable.

The most bizarre thing with this is, who knows what will be like tomorrow. Normal, hopefully.

Thursday 10th September – At least the Thursday Thresholds are calming down a bit. Although, it still three lots of 4km (that’s 3 x 2.49 miles if you’re an old bastard like me).

3km of that is at Threshold, 1km at Marathon pace.

I’m going to let my foot ‘breath’ for as long as possible today. So not strap it. I don’t think it’s helping to strap it up when not running.

I’m also going to do the session on a local sports field. So completely on the grass. This is in the hope that staying off the road will mean less impact.

I’ve no idea what I’m doing, to be honest.

The field is around a Km in circumference. It’s a field we do club sessions on during the light summer evenings.

It’s usually a busy field during this time, with lots of football training sessions going on.

Now we’re in September, it’s dead. Not a soul on it except dog walkers here and there.

I set off and right away I realise this genius idea of mine is actually going to be massively fucking tedious.

Between reps and recoveries, I reckon this will be about 12 or 13 laps around the field.

It’s also quite windy, which is not great on here, as it’s hugely exposed.

The first set of thresholds go ok. I make good pace (too fucking fast again) and the foot is ok.

Second set is a struggle. I feel like my Achilles is grumbling, plus the monotony of the laps is fucking with my head.

It’s during this set that I make an executive decision to not do my hill reps tomorrow. Or my weights session. Nor do a shake out on Saturday.

With the Great North Run in mind, it’s become clear that I need to rest this foot. Get through tonight, then do nowt for a couple of days.

After I’ve made that decision, the third set goes quite well and I get through it with some sort of second wind.

I’ve done 10 miles by the time so get back, which is not bad at all for someone with an alleged gammy foot.

Nearly there I tell myself. Nearly there.

Friday 11th September – True to my word, I don’t run today. Or do my weights session.

The foot has probably bothered me more today than ever. But, again, it comes and goes in waves, and it’s still not what I would class as pain.

I pop to the shop at lunch time and it my Achilles does feel a bit stiff and achy though.

In the evening, I head out to the Pasta Party for the charity I’m running the Great North Run for.

It’s a local Hospice, one I’ve ran the last 13 for, and it’s a lovely evening. It’s nice to meet other runners, hear their stories and so on.

We also do a bit of yoga with a local instructor which I enjoy.

My foot feels a little out of sorts when I get back, but I’m glad I skipped the hills today. I just hope things start to settle down after tomorrow. I’m starting to feel a little bit worried…

Saturday 12th September – Today I plan to do as little as possible. Originally, the plan was to do a gentle 4 mile this morning, to make it a 17 mile weekend.

I knocked that on the head on Thursday night, and so stick with it. The only physical activity I plan to do today is a tidy up of the front garden.

I also elevate my leg when I can. This seems to help. Unfortunately, idle hands make the devils work, and I start Googling what might be wrong with my foot.

All this does is make me more paranoid and convinced that I’m actually fucked, that it’s now inevitable that either in the lead up to the Marathon or on the day itself. I’m going to rupture something.

Sunday 13th September – It’s Great North Run day.

This year, I’m not going to bore anyone with a full race review. The only goal of today is to run well and survive.

So with that in mind, let’s just pick up the highlights.

• With a mixture of drugs and strapping, the foot behaves itself. It’s a good job they don’t want my piss for a drugs test though.
• Some boomer took a piss on me in the Pen.
• I high fived Dan Burn.
• Half way round I high fived a young kid in a s*underland shirt and shouted ‘WHEEEY I’VE TOUCHED DAN BURN!’
• Apparently it was ‘hot.’ Hot? Pah! See my post about my week of running hell in Menorca. Hot my arse.
• I set out to run a flat 8 minute pace all the way round. In the end, I did a 7:56 pace and finished in a course PB of 1:44:45
• I felt comfortable as fuck all the way round. In fact, I’ve never felt so comfortable running the GNR before.
• Most of the Pen passed me in the first mile. Then from mile 6 onwards, I started picking them off like a sniper.
• A BOOMER PISSED ON ME IN THE PEN

So, a good day all in all. Apart from the pissing incident.

After all the drama, worry, and sleepless nights of the week, I made it and it couldn’t have gone better.

The real test is how my foot feels tomorrow.

2 weeks to go. Hang on in there foot.

Mood: Not hot.