Running Blog 23rd July - ended in A&E
I’m sure you’ve heard the same wise voices as I have, sharing their miserable theories that running is bad for your health and we’d be far better off sitting in an armchair eating olives and attempting 3-across on the Times Crossword?
After this morning’s ‘Recovery Run’ I can feel their supercilious smiles and ‘told you so’ eyes sparkling away. I should explain.
The day started so well. I woke up at 5 to a very still and bright morning. Running kit on. Fitbit watch strapped to my left wrist. Satsuma for afters. Water and towel. Car keys. Ready to go. The drive across the deserted Downs and down through Hotwells to my usual parking slot at Cumberland Basin was uneventful and calm; I was lost in my early morning thoughts.
Setting off in the sunshine, I decided to take the clockwise route around the Harbour perimeter. One or two dog-walkers were up but, otherwise, no-one else was around. From the sky I could hear loud whooshes from a hot-air balloon and all was well.
A mile or so from the start and I am running on a straight path with no obvious obstacles, no steps up or down. Sunglasses are reducing the glare from the dawn sun low on the horizon, then Bang! I tripped over something, maybe a loose paving slab, I don’t know, and I’m falling. In less than the second it took to hit the deck I remember thinking ‘O no this is going to hurt!’ not due to falling but having to break the fall with my left arm which is currently troubled by serious bursitis in the shoulder. The last time I had to extend my left arm to grab a handrail I was on the floor in extreme pain. Maybe therefore I didn’t extend the arm, or couldn’t, but before I knew what was happening, I’d cracked my forehead on the pavement and was rolling around feeling rather sore.
Recovering, and leaking blood from my head wound with drops of blood falling on the path, I tried to stem the flow with my nice blue t-shirt…and, yes, I can confirm red + blue still = purple!
Somewhat shocked I got to my feet and walked and ran past the few others up early with ‘You should see the other guy’ comments ready should anyone ask. But we’re British, and no-one noticed, or, if they did, they didn’t enquire.
An hour or so later and after calling 111, I ended up in Southmead hospital A&E. The NHS nurses were professional, attentive, listened patiently to my ridiculous story, and – thankfully – used a local anaesthetic (thank you!) before cleaning out the various cuts and abrasions and the mess above my left eye and wielding needle and thread.
Will I take to olives and newspaper crosswords? Watch this space.
So far, my prep for Paris 2024 is yet to be as boring and methodical as perhaps I’d prefer - far too much drama.
