December 8th 2020

Today my body aches. I played football yesterday for the first time in a year, and although I am probably as fit as I have ever been, I am not football fit. I’ve run every day for over six months, but the way you run when you play football is different. It’s more short and sharp, and less calm and consistent.

Also, you have six foot four, hundred kilo bricks sprinting into you because they’ve decided to take a Monday night six aside a bit too seriously and you’ve ended up hitting yourself in the stomach with your own arm as he’s charged into you, both winding yourself and spraining your wrist in the process.

And by you I mean me. And by me I mean I.

So I’ve been walking a bit gingerly today. My wrist hurts with it held by my side. Sheer gravity is too much for it. I’ve activated new kicking muscles in my legs that haven’t been used through running, and they’re a bit confused.

And for some reason my neck is stiff, though I don’t know what football contributed to that.

My body aches.

If I’d’ve properly injured myself instead of these niggly whiny injuries I’m describing, I’d’ve been pretty pissed off. I only went because my friend needed a ringer, and if it’d’ve meant I could no longer run every day, I’d’ve been annoyed.

Yeah, that was four double contractions in one paragraph. What of it?

Until tomorrow, fortunately, we live to run another day.


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