Having enthusiastically thrown myself back into a regular and rigorous gym routine, I'm now suffering the effects of over doing it, or to put it plainly: I can't walk.
Ok, slight exaggeration, but only slight. By Friday of last week, I knew I'd done some damage because both ankle joints were really painful and my left leg was twinging up to my knee every time I moved. By Saturday morning, I could barely walk around my apartment, and by Sunday it was agony to even put the slightest amount pressure on either foot. Despite this, I'd made plans to go and watch a film in town, so rather than be a let down at the last minute, I slathered on some Ibuprofen gel, bandaged up both ankles and off I went.
It took me around seven minutes just to get from my own front door down to the main door of the building due to the overwhelming challenge of about thirty eight steps, which I usually run down in a matter of seconds. Once overcoming that little obstacle and managing to exit the building, I then commenced my crusade into town. I hobbled along at the pace of a tortoise, not only being overtaken by numerous pensioners with walking sticks, but also attracting infinite looks of, well, what exactly? Amusement? Nosiness? Jeez, have people no shame?
Yes, I'm limping along, very slowly. Clearly I've hurt myself. What the fuck is the fascination? Have you nothing better to look at? I haven't grown an ear where my nose used to be, I'm just trying to walk up the fucking road! Do you stare at people with disabilities in this manner? Or am I the lucky one because I'm trying my best to walk, but failing to do so whilst accomplishing the very great task of looking like a twat?
If I hadn't felt bad enough before, I certainly did by the time I got home that evening!
By Monday morning it was obvious that my previous day's little venture had been a very bad idea indeed. I think I managed to get out of bed only on the occasions that I absolutely needed to, and spent the rest of it with my legs elevated, throbbing in pain, and feeling as miserable as Jack Dee's face.
Today, I'm slightly better. Yesterday's bout of paralysis has obviously done me some good, but I'm still hobbling in pain and struggling to move around. I've warned work that when I return tomorrow I'll need help to get up the stairs, and if that's not quite humiliating enough, they're yet to witness my hilarious attempt at walking!
The main thing is that I've learned my lesson. When I get back to the gym I need to take it steady, and not try to run like an olympic athlete. This set back has been frustrating and disheartening, so I'm determined as hell not to do this to myself again.
Oh, and also, if this is what it feels like to get old, can someone please come and shoot me now?
In the head though, please. Not the legs.
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