Just Stupid!

The plan was to run a 10K trail race this morning, and although the legs were tired from yesterday's mountain biking and I was still aware of this slight tightness in the calf, I was up for it. There was a certain momentum to things and, despite a nagging doubt that it possibly wasn't a good idea, I just rolled along with the flow. A beautiful morning, a pretty country park venue, a festive atmosphere. It was difficult not to get caught up with it all. I started the race steadily, but I suppose not that steadily because I didn't want M to get too far ahead of me, for I could see that she wasn't just going for first vet but first lady overall! I remember thinking that the calf felt fine and the legs not overly heavy and starting to plot a strategy of holding back on the first lap of the course, then trying to come through the field on the second ... when I started to feel a niggle. I went into some kind of denial for a hundred yards or so, because you so very much don't want to believe what you are feeling. But then reality kicked in hard and there was no choice but to accept the sobering fact that I had pulled something in the calf.

The first reaction is not so much about the longer term but the disappointment of not being able to race. The adrenalin had started to pump around the system and it had suddenly got nowhere to go. Then came the realisation that I'll be missing out on Buckden Pike next weekend, and then possibly a whole host of other summer evening races. How could I have been so stupid? I really started beating myself up. All the signs were there and I simply refused to heed them. But, then, over the last few years I have grown so accustomed to this calf tightness that I would barely have raced at all if I were to have been overly cautious. I've always found it hard to enter into the spirit of watching races when I can't race myself. There is this really strong feeling of being excluded. I limped back to the finish to see M come in just behind the winning lady. She'd run a great race, taking the lead with a mile to go, forcing the winner to dig deep to earn her victory. I'm not sure if I'd have beaten her today. I then felt bad that M may have been deprived of taking my scalp!!

My little escape from responsibility over and naturally feeling rather low, I then had to get back to Yorkshire and do the right thing by the boys. No.2 son had arrived back from a sleepover and was feeling lonely at home, while No.1 so was playing for the 3rd XI at North Leeds. He really wanted me to see him play, so M kindly took me out there. We just missed him get a quickfire twenty odd off just 13 balls at the end of the innings to help his side post a score of 159. I thought it wouldn't be enough, but the home team was skittled out for just 69, my lad taking a stunning diving slip catch to dismiss their most dangerous batsman. That made up for him not getting a chance to bowl his off-spin.

I was then left to cycle the 18 miles back home to Ilkley, finding a few miles of bridleway to justify being on the MB. I felt the calf a little when pushing on the hills, but it didn't cause me too many problems, although I thought it wise to take things steady. I'm hoping it's not going to effect my cycling. The only positive spin I can place on this is that it will force me to concentrate on the bike now rather than spread myself across two disciplines. But I'm going to miss the racing. That's a buzz I just don't get from the cycling. Will I ever learn?