Oh! Shit! My ankles!

So I had big plans tonight to go running. But then I remembered that I was meant to visit a friend wot had had a baby, so couldn’t really ditch her since I’d stood her up last week as I’d been in London training. So I popped around and cuddled the baby for a while, being the soppy big bloke I am, until she threw up on my only pair of clean trousers (which means jeans at work tomorrow! Yes! Thanks baby!). Then because said friend lives way out in Wallington, it took me forever and a day to get home. I was, natch, famished when I’d got off the train at Streatham Hill, as was wifey who’d diligently been waiting for me to get home before cooking and instead had been buying makeup online from MAC, so I stopped in at Sainsbury’s and bought two of their finest pizzas. Plus it’s raining outside, so no running for me tonight.

So, tomorrow morning before I head off for work I promise to run around the block twice, doing the 1-min run/1-min walk times 7 thingie which, if my math doth not fail me, should take 14 mins. It’ll also be a pre-breakfast run (or fasted cardio, as they say on the fatty forums) which will do me well and not make me feel so bad about hot crumpets and butter for breakfast.

Strangely, my lower calves and ankles are still paining me, but only when I wear my work shoes. This is really shitting me off, but I’m thankful that I have only baby-sick trousers for work, so I can instead wear my comfy walking boot/shoe things tomorrow with my jeans and see if that helps alleviate things. If my legs are fine tomorrow, then I know it’s my work shoes (bought recently from Target in Australia when on hols). Kind of hoping it IS the shoes, and not anything I’ve done to myself, considering my stellar ultra-marathon career has only barely just begun.