Talk the walk
October 2nd 2010 11:08
Heaven
Dear Achilles Tendon,
You have done a sterling job for 57 years, and I hope you don't doubt for a moment that your support has been appreciated. You have been with me through thick and hinge, often a step ahead of me, and a rock upon which I have built the journey of my life.
But now, I know, you are suffering. Believe me, I feel your pain. No need to walk me through this.
I know also that you blame me. You think that my insistence on jogging for exercise is, well, past its use-by date. That's in public. In private, you think it's moronic.
Yes, old friend, I still hear things.
You think cross-training, swimming, indoor-rowing, gym work, pilates and many non-weight bearing alternatives are far more appropriate for someone my (our) age. And you may be right. But here's the thing. When it comes to exercise, I prefer fresh air to water, and I prefer outdoors to indoors.
Is that too much for a city-dwelling, office-bound bloke to ask?
And now my wife has organised a trekking holiday in New Zealand at the end of the year. Queen Charlotte Sound, at the north end of the South Island. It sounds like heaven.
But we have to hike for up to eight hours a day, and there's my problem. You. I've been trying to fix you for months, but it doesn't seem to matter how long I rest you, each time I try a gentle jog I spend days afterwards limping and resisting the temptation to overdose on anti-inflammatories.
Old friend, we aren't that old, are we? I'm really looking forward to this hiking tour. Please take pity on me. Stop being a heel and heal yourself.
Thanks,
The bloke upstairs
Hell
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