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WRR Injuries & Stories
The Idea for this page came from Andrey Starcevic.
| Annette's
knees . . . after falling down a pot hole! |
Brian's toe - full story below |
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| Parky's
side after a trip at White Peaks 2008 . . . and we all missed it! |
Brian's
knee - full story below |
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| Pete's
Santa Run injury - Dec 2008 |
Nicki's Knee |
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| 'Parky Falls' | Parky's hand after a Sunday Run ...! |
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Daft as a Brush
It would be good say that this injury was caused by the rigours of recent marathon exploits and continued good form post marathon, or perhaps by a high speed bicycle crash, or a Scree Run down some mountain fell.
But alas this mishap was caused in the pursuance of attempting to recapture one’s youth during the Adults v Kids football game on a Kingham Saturday afternoon.
The kid’s insisted that we adults had to play in bare feet. The gauntlet was truly thrown down by the youngsters.
Our team had a solid Ex-footballer spine of Jeff Mason, Chris Gallagher and myself. We had Flying Dave Parkins giving us natural width on the right, and with Beck (5 goal) Mason pulling the trigger up front, these kids were in for a tough afternoon.
We raced into a 3-goal lead, but got pegged back. It was nip and tuck, our experience and superior physical conditioning meant that we kept our noses in front, but this countered by some of us having done the Kingham 7.5 mile run that morning in warm conditions and copious amounts of Stella.
It was going to be first to 10, but as we went 9-7 up, those pesky kids changed the rules and decided it should be first to 12. Perhaps they sensed they had the superior fitness in the latter stages of the match.
However in a tactical masterstroke “Fabio” Mason put the tiring Parky in goal and brought on fresh legs with super sub Kirsty. Now our Kirsty gets right stuck in, Chris was wincing at every challenge. Although Kirsty wasn’t actually able to kick the ball with either foot, the injection of pace confused the youngsters, and openings were created for others. Our 1-year Pup Archiebaldus Labradorous (the king of the dribble) also made a fleeting appearance, which further confused their defence. In fact he almost got the game abandoned as he tried to sink his fangs into the match ball. The goal posts got moved again to the first to 15.
We struck three quick goals and demoralised our young opponents by ending up winning 15-9. They were indeed taught a harsh lesson (however I believe Chris Gallagher and yours truly have been cited for over zealous play and are currently awaiting to hear if we will be banned from next year’s game).
So like Gazza in Italia 90, who played tennis in the searing Sardinian sunshine the day before the World Cup semi final, I chose also to leave the comfort of my picnic chair and played football in bare feet on rock hard ground. I showed Nurse Martin Fowler my Wootton coloured toe. He said it might be a minor fracture, so it looks like cycling only in the immediate future.
Was it worth it? Well you see I scored the 15th and match clinching goal to ensure there were no Gazza type tears.
Of course it was worth it. Roll on 2010 (by the way ladies it’s World Cup year).
Cheers
Brian Singleton
Superman and Me
Thought
I would get the story in before anyone else for the injuries page.
As
we came to the penultimate session we had to complete a one
minute effort, “easy” I hear you say, well our group was quite large
this night and with cries of “get off the road, stay on the path” from
the group leader we were all crowded into an area the size of a mini
cooper.
As I
decided to put on a burst of speed and separate myself from the pack I
was nervous about the closeness of numerous legs and feet all trying to
go faster. With my head down (watching feet) and my arms pumping (to go
faster) I saw a gap and opted to go for it and break free. Suddenly up
ahead the bodies parted (in the best Moses and water tradition) and I
saw my arch nemesis ‘The Lamppost’ ahead. Trying to swerve around the
said object I struck it a glancing blow.
The
result, I was winded and hit the ground very quickly, there was a
jumble of other bodies and luckily most got off with minor injuries. I
suffered internal bruising to the rib cage and a broken watch, not a
Garmin to save the cries of woe from all you gadget runners.
The
lessons learnt are many but I will summarise:
1. When running in groups
use the keep left rule and don’t bunch.
2. It doesn’t matter how fast you run there is
always someone faster behind you.
3. Don’t look down, look up; or at least split your
attention equally between both.
4. Lampposts are not frangible and they will always
win the argument against your soft pink body.
I
would finally like to thank Andrey Starcevic, Steve Borondy, Pete
Diamond and Bobby Holding, and anyone else I have missed in my post (no
pun intended) traumatic daze.
The call of the wild
Well you know how it is, your enjoying your running, deep into a training programme and nothing is going to defeat you in going out the door.
Such
was I a
few weeks ago, it was the day the unexpected first snow of winter fell
on Northants.
I reached the one-mile
point, safe in the
knowledge that despite it being half term there would be no prams and
yappy
dogs in the forest on such a foul afternoon.
Off I set on the 5-mile
tempo. The rain turned
to sleet, but it was not too bad and I was really enjoying being the
only
nutter in the forest. After about 3 miles I was aware it was now
snowing, and
it was lying, however the trees kept most of it off.
On my last
loop, it really started snowing heavily and I could not believe my eyes
when I
came across a guy pushing a buggy with his yappy dog off the lead who
proceeded
to attack me. I had to stop until he got it under control, I started
again,
mouthing obscenities about keeping dogs on their leads, and what the
hell was
he doing in the forest anyway in a snow storm in the dark!!!!
I pushed
myself in the last mile, I wasn’t going to quite do the 37.30 for the 5
miles
as the paths were now quite treacherous, but wanted to get close. 0.4
miles to
go, I swerved to avoid a large puddle, lost my footing and ended up on
the
floor.
Now this was no Jeff Mason at Snowdonia type
fall, but I was going a fair lick at the time. I leapt straight up and
completed the 5 miles in 39.06, not bad for the conditions I felt. I
stopped to
catch my breath, looked all around me and suddenly felt very alone in a
dark
forest with a snow filled sky.
I still had a mile to get home, my hands suddenly went very cold, and my gloves were soaking from the snow and the dive in the puddle. I crossed the road and realised how bad the snow was. I took another forest trail to get to Hartwell.
My arm and side now started to hurt from the fall and my hands were now painful from the cold. I trudged on feeling very sorry for myself.
My hands were so cold I contemplated an Oates (I may be away for some time) walk off the track into the trees, or maybe if I just lay down like a soldier on the Russian Front a warm glow would come over me before the demise.
But I eventually reached the village. I dearly hoped Karen had not gone out for a run, as I don’t think I could have unlocked the front door. Alarmingly I spotted the unmistakable imprint of a size 5 running shoe on a footpath. Thankfully she had abandoned her run, and I burst through the door howling with pain from my freezing hands and bleeding from the knee. It took ages to get some feeling back, and after a hot bath and Nurse Daly dressing my leg, I felt some sort of smug satisfaction that the session was in the bag.
What a strange
bunch we runners are.
Cheers, Brian Singleton (photo above)