A lesson hard won – a Big Year activity just can’t be dropped. The whole point is the daily discipline and surely something good will come of it (that’s something to debate at another time). So I donned my new green joggers and the instant I raced down the hill, all that tension dissipated: “I am back on track.” By the way, perhaps because of all that unsettling worry, I ran as fast as I have in weeks, a 10-km pace of 6:00/km. And I saw a Cormorant drying its wings.
Panic. Just before the middle of the Jogging Big Year, yesterday I failed myself. Until now, on every day not spent on a plane or out hiking, I’ve kept up the discipline – jog 10 kms on M/W/F/S, gym the other three days, stretching every day. Absorbed, busy, pressured, call it what you will, yesterday I did none of these. Burgers, wine, biscuits for dinner . . . why not fail spectacularly. I woke up this morning panicky. What to do?
Stop fussing about feet!
I’m still worrying about the left outside ankle, the threat of lameness. And the muscle on or around the left hip bone is strained from gym work. Woe is me . . . but hey, what a day I encountered when last on my north route along the Yarra River!