Words no runner wants to hear, but at last a diagnosis. After my ongoing foot troubles were still, well, ongoing I finally cracked and went to visit my GP. She poked and prodded my foot, finding the exact very sore spot, and squashed my hypochondriatic fears about a stress fracture by telling me I don’t actually have any bones there. Well she’s the doctor I suppose. Tendinitis, possibly caused by my walking strangely with the planter fasciitis I’d had.
Like the last time I visited the Doctor’s a few years ago, she uttered the awful phrase “as we get older…” (this time it was followed by “…we take longer to heal” and I forgave her this because she confessed to being a frustrated, injured runner. Things got worse as she followed this with “and don’t even think about running for a month”.
Well I promised I wouldn’t run for a month, but not think about it? That’s harsh. No promises there…
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