“So far we’ve had a woman with no hair, a woman with no teeth, and a woman with hair on her teeth.”

Badvoc, Chelmsford 123

Monday 14th September – Despite yesterday’s Great North Run going far better than expected, or possibly feared, this morning my big toe on my left foot is sore.

I noticed it straight after the run to be honest. My toe nail was quite bruised and tender – probably caused by the distraction of strapping my other gammy foot, meaning I failed to put my sock or shoe or both on properly.

Bollocks.

Ok the plus side, the foot feels ok. Not 100% by any means, but no worse after its heroic efforts yesterday.

I’m missing out my weights session again today, with the plan to try and rest it and pick it up again later in the week.

Therefore today I’m doing NOWT. Well, I’m at work, but it’s a rest day.

Meanwhile, I continue to laugh at my algorithm popping up stories from run influencers who had shitters at the Great North Run because it was ‘too hot.’

I’ll say this one more time for those at the back – was it shite too hot. We’ve had a summer of unbearable heat. A summer you would/should have been training for this race.

Compared to that heat, this should have been a cake walk.

Cake run even.

Anyway, I’ll die on a hill defending the weather yesterday.

Tuesday 15th September – This will be the last Tuesday I have to complete a warm up before the session.

I get it in and all seems ok with the foot. Tonight the club session is ‘Ups and Downs.’ The idea being you go quicker for a few minutes, jog, quicker again for a certain amount of time and so on.

I decide to go with a group in my ability range who all did the Great North Run at the weekend.

Everyone is, as you would expect, a bit tired, therefore we all agree we’re going to take it easy.

I notice something might be a bit off when we start catching up with the faster group who set off in front of us.

It’s not a a good start.

This continues all the way through the session. We’re doing it far too fast. Even our recovery jogs – too fucking fast.

When we finish, I’m knackered. And my foot is niggling me again. I only have myself to blame. I should have slowed down and done my own thing.

Instead, I might have re-knackered myself.

Wednesday 16th September – It’s 6 easy tonight. And I will take it easy.

I set off and immediately there is a problem. And it’s not my right foot. It’s now my left one.

Plantar fasciitis.

You have got to be fucking joking me.

The combination of probably running the Great North Run too fast, and then my recovery last night also too fast, has given me Planter fucking fasciitis.

You idiot.

If it was physically possible, I would boot myself right up the arse at this point.

As well know with Plantar Fasciitis, it can be deceptive. As after about half a mile, it settles right down. But I know that means fuck all. Like Arnie, it will be back.

I finish up down the sea front and walk back home knowing this could be bad news.

Thursday 17th September – So now I have a quandary.

It’s my last Thresholds session, do I risk it? I’ve had Plantar Fasciitis before and it fucked off as quickly as it came, but it was because I rested it for a day or so.

I decide to do what I did last week. Head for the field, onto the grass, for these last Thresholds KMs.

I also decide to slow it right down. Like 15 seconds a mile right down.

Meanwhile, during the day at my desk I do the good old fashioned ‘roll it over a tennis ball’ trick. Fuck knows if it will help.

The run follows the pattern of last night. First half a mile is agony, then it settles.

I am, for once this fucking week, as sensible as I said I would be. I calm the pace right down. These are the slowest Thresholds I’ve compiled through the entire cycle.

When I get back, the heel is sore. Ironically, or almost comically, my right ankle has had a Lazarus back from the dead resurrection.

Or maybe my left is distracting it.

Friday 18th September – It’s hills day.

Again, like last week, I’m avoiding the big bastard ramp down the sea front that I’m supposed to do these on.

I’ve also now completely abandoned my Weights sessions.

It really is damage limitation now.

Instead, it’s back to 10 reps on the much easier path out of the old Quarry now Park.

Yep, first half a mile, pain.

The toddler stabiliser version of hill reps done, I finish my 4 miles down the sea front.

The heel is tender again when I’m done.

I roll it on a Tennis ball with a foreboding sense of doom.

Saturday 19th September – It never rains but pours.

I have one last long run to do – 14 miles – and I’m doing it this morning. Newcastle are at home later, so it was always the plan.

I think about changing it to tomorrow but, actually, I’d rather just get it down and then give myself an extra days rest going into my final week.

I’m up early, out, and the first half a mile is painful. Yup.

It then calms down.

At 9 miles, I can feel it a bit again – to the point it worries me a tiny bit and I slow down.

It seems to pass, and I push through the next 5 miles.

14 miles, done. Long stuff, done.

I should be celebrating, but I’m just relieved at this point. Actually, I’m not even that. With 8 days to go, I think I might be fucked.

To continue with my stupid bastard decisions this week, I head off to the match and end up getting a bit pissed.

That’s clever.

Sunday 20th September – Despite the being a bit pissed situation the day before, I’m wake up with no ill effects.

My heel however, is tender.

Therefore today I have announced to the house that I’m doing fuck all.

Tennis ball rolling and elevation. That’s it.

I have 7 days and 3 more runs to shake this shit off.

Shite.

Mood: Doomed.