Pulling the Other One

I have picked up a sporting injury.

Well, at least that is my side of the story.

In fact I am a bit embarrassed by the whole thing.

In the first place it is one of those leg muscle strains that has no outward signs of trauma or pain. It has, consequently,  been up to me to convey to passers-by, the casually inquisitive and my family a reasonable representation of the  shooting pains that have sent me into spasms and convulsions.

I cannot remember the previous incidence of an injury which I take to be good for a male of my age, body shape and resultant weighting imposed on limbs and joints. In a brief moment of being still and stationary  I get the impression that the affliction has healed itself only to be plunged into a distressed state once more by any slight movement. I have developed a laboured leg dragging limp which resembles that adopted by Kevin Spacey in "The Usual Suspects" movie but try as I can there is no immediate prospect of it gradually diminishing into a fast and nimble pace.

This has produced a range of reactions amongst those who have known me for a few years. Under my reduced mobility I was late for a meeting and the individual whom I have done business with for about 20 years had come out onto the street to look for me. He could not believe that the person approaching in a very slow and deliberately cautious manner was me and indeed before I had come into full focus he had offered forward a prayer for the poor wretch with apparently not much going for him in the world.

My family have been understandably concerned particularly as I am known to always be active and very rarely seen with feet up and at leisure. They have not though come to terms with my current injury and have continued to make requests for this and that, such and so-forth fully expecting for everything to be done instantly.

I have tried to conceal my lack of mobility by accepting to do my usual tasks and doing my best to undertake the responsibilities of my position in the household. What would normally be a short hop, skip and jump to the local Tesco Express for vital ingredients for a meal already well under production turned into journey of epic proportions.

The uneveness in the pavement became as major topographical features. Kerbs were as vertical cliff faces. Crossing the road and avoiding traffic was like dodging protruding rocks in rapid white waters. Everything else on a level plane was just tiring in the extreme. It was almost the case of sending out a search party in the absence of the wine, mixed spice and......oh, yes...me.

My working day was also not without obstacles and difficulties. There was some relief in driving in that there was little direct weight to be carried by the strained muscle and miniscule vertical or lateral movement. The problems came with getting in and out of the car and negotiating all of the other aspects involved with inspecting a house. The occupants were very sympathetic to my plight and most attentive in making sure that there were no child's toys or domestic pets potentially under foot. This made me feel a bit better and being buoyed by such support seemed to boost my adrenalin and stamina.

I should really have been laid up and resting the injured part but a busy schedule prevented such a luxury.

Through all of the above I maintained my story of a sporting injury. It was partly true. I had been out riding trails on my mountain bike and had covered 40 miles. My old limbs do tend to ache after such exertion and the occasional twinges and cramps on ascending a steep slope on the route were a reminder of my age.
Recovery time after such a ride is also now much longer. I do eat sensibly and have shed a few pounds through a mainly fruit salad and no picking diet in recent weeks in order to put less strain on my body.

It was in pursuit of a healthy meal that I found myself, after the ride, walking back from the shops with two carrier bags of nutritious and nourishing foodstuffs. On making my way through the Park I somehow caught my foot on a raised part of the road camber, stumbled forward and this action in extending to its very limit the elasticity of the muscle tissue prompted the excruciating pain. Those in proximity did glance around in my direction which I put down to their hearing a popping or twanging sound from my lower right leg. It took a further ten minutes to get into the house although only a mere few metres away from the incident.

I have felt foolish and not a little bit feeble and old by the whole experience.

The things we do for our sport indeed.