Oh Poo

That was what I said when I realised I can't wear my trainers at the moment. What I was thinking was a rather stronger expletive, but the chaos daemons were in the room so I had to censor it to pass the PG rating.

Why can't I wear my trainers?
The pain pixies have struck again.
This time it was an errant berserker pain pixie with a really sharp scimitar and a cruel sense of humour.

Now I have a large slice of indeterminant origin just above my little toe and any pressure on it hits the expletive button. Until it is sufficiently healed I can't run or do any impact exercise and it's only just over a week until the Race for Life.

 

The cock up fairy is working with the pain pixies and it's a conspiracy I could do without.

So the pixies and fairys are colluding in keeping me from my runs while the nano-gremlins have annexed my abdomen as their sovreign territory (thanks to monday's Defence Lab session), but at least that means I am protected from zombies.

 

 

On my last run I thought I was being watched by little eyes from the hedges. Was it the pixies working out when to strike?

Or maybe I am demonising the good guys. Perhaps they are using this small but painful injury to keep me out of trouble. Are they bothetsome little knights in shining armour? Supernatural beings are more attuned to each other than we are. If there is a particular danger only they can see, could they be gently steering me away from it.Or maybe I have got the little buggers bang to rights and they are learning from the imps of mischief.

 

FraidyKat Runs - with a limp