Groin Strain. It’s no joke.

Sunday.  Day 68

Suffering with a groin strain so very glad this is a rest day.  Decide to make the most of the sunny spring weather and head off out for a jaunt with the family.

Beautiful riverside walk in Crieff.

Sunglasses and a picnic.

Ten minutes later…..snow.

Oh, Scotland.

 

Monday.  Day 69

Sticking with the ‘Moron’s Guide’ philosophy and resting up for another day.  Doing some yoga stretches to relieve the tightness but still finding it quite painful and walking like an octogenarian.

Tough week time-wise, so fingers crossed for a bit of relief tomorrow as we’ll be out regardless.  Remembering the current mantra courtesy of Keith Duffy, ‘Pain is temporary.  Failure is forever’.

I certainly never expected the words of a member of Boyzone to take on profound significance for me.  Just goes to show how I have *grown* as a person during this journey.

 

Tuesday.  Day 70

We are out and running after a tricky day.  Legs still sore and blister as yet, unhealed.  I spend the morning shuffling around the office wearing Uggs and a surly expression.  To make matters worse, rugrat 2 threw up at nursery and under Scots Law has to be removed from the building in a hazmat suit and quarantined.

A small network coverage issue with my mobile provider meant I was unable to answer the call.  I work in a lead-lined building which plays havoc with our telecoms.  Not ideal.

Particularly as I work in telecoms.

Luckily K, my erstwhile childminder, races to the rescue in her cape and super hero liveried people carrier.  She is surprised to find rugrat number 2 happily devouring her snack with no visible signs of illness.  But rules are rules, and the hazmat suit is donned and the nationwide alert level reduced to amber.

When I arrive to pick her up she is chipper and, it appears after less than 5 minutes, starving.  She may have smelled the chocolate digestives I opened as a ‘work aid’ while I settled her down in front of Cinderella (see that bad parenting sheen sparkling in the glare of my laptop?), or it may have been actual hunger, who knows.

Either way, we have eaten half the packet by dinner.

Working from home with an unruly and not-at-all-ill toddler is, I can confirm, quite impossible.  I am dangerously close to opening wine when 5pm finally rolls around.  It is only V’s text about our proposed run that saves the Chablis from immediate and speedy consumption.

We head out and manage a good 40 minutes.  The groin strain is still bothering me so the pace is not great but I soldier on, ever vigilant about the calories I need to burn due to the chocolate digestive binge.

 

Wednesday. Day 71

Another working from home day and the rugrat is extremely compliant.  I actually get a huge amount accomplished. Probably more than I ever do at work.

Including three loads of laundry.

Don’t tell my boss.

 

Thursday.  Day 72

Head out with G.  A great 4 mile run on a very chilly morning. Have a couple of incidences of slowing to a very easy jog as the groin strain has not improved.

Later, during the school run, I decide to seek advice from W, a nurse, only she can’t stop laughing when I tell her I have strained ‘both my groins’.  Being almost incapacitated with hysteria, she was no help at all.

I resolve to mug up on anatomical terminology so as not to embarrass myself further when next in her company.

 

Friday. Day 73

My folks arrive tonight so any chance of running is out the window this afternoon.  I frantically micro-clean the house in order to maintain the anal housewife label I pretend to hate, but secretly love.

I am rarely happier than when I have finished the high dusting.

 

Saturday.  Day 74

I had planned to take a short run this morning while rugrat number 1 is out being sporty and the grandparents are there to keep rugrat number 2 under control.  Instead I make pancakes with bacon, banana and maple syrup.

N does take us up a hill in the rain and mist, much to the delight of the children.  I guess that’s cross training of  sort.  I certainly burned off a few calories maintaining the constant moaning.

We have a rare night off tonight.  Out to dinner and the opera.  Let’s hear it for grandparents.

I fully intend to run tomorrow after the excesses of a slap up dinner and breakfast.

Did I mention we went out for lunch too?

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