Well it has only been 5 months since my last post, but since we are getting comments (well alright one) moaning that we haven’t been updating this blog I thought I might give you an update:
My hamstring is still screwed and Sarah has lost all interest in running.
So moving on to the most important of those two things. My hamstring. Honestly why would a hamstring injury last this long? Why? HOW? Why can no healthcare professional fix it? It’s just a bleeding hamstring. You must have seen one before.
If you are a physiotherapist I want to hear from you. Maybe I could run some kind of physio competition to see who can fix me. Then I will start running and blogging again and I will make Sarah join in
Green
Wednesday, 29 October 2008
Wednesday, 7 May 2008
Dance in the aisles when The Green steps to it.
Hello! Cherry Green here. Remember me? I used to write in this blog. So let me tell you what has been going on:
Sarah has become the first archaeologist in space. She is currently in acrimonious financial talks with NASA and has threatened to take a match to Jupiter.
Charlotte has evolved into a being of pure energy and now lives in the wiring of her house in South East London. She has also done lots of training and will run the Edinburgh Marathon in about half an hour. She also turned thirty and Sarah and I wrote a blisteringly bad poem about it. See below.
I have done my hamstring in. It turned out that the Serpentines track training did more than humiliate me in front of a lot of men with bums the size of a clenched fist. It also cost me the entire Edinburgh Marathon and several hundred pounds in physio. I’m on the mend now but still unable to run. Which is really quite annoying when you think about it.
Yesterday my physio told me that my muscles are “flaccid and wasted”. Which was nice of him. I wonder if I pay extra for the abuse.
That’s all for now until I think of something witty or amusing to say.
Cerise
Sarah has become the first archaeologist in space. She is currently in acrimonious financial talks with NASA and has threatened to take a match to Jupiter.
Charlotte has evolved into a being of pure energy and now lives in the wiring of her house in South East London. She has also done lots of training and will run the Edinburgh Marathon in about half an hour. She also turned thirty and Sarah and I wrote a blisteringly bad poem about it. See below.
I have done my hamstring in. It turned out that the Serpentines track training did more than humiliate me in front of a lot of men with bums the size of a clenched fist. It also cost me the entire Edinburgh Marathon and several hundred pounds in physio. I’m on the mend now but still unable to run. Which is really quite annoying when you think about it.
Yesterday my physio told me that my muscles are “flaccid and wasted”. Which was nice of him. I wonder if I pay extra for the abuse.
That’s all for now until I think of something witty or amusing to say.
Cerise
Tuesday, 26 February 2008
Creaky's Corner # 1
Hello to the World
Creaky here. It has been many moons since I put my mark on this blog spot but nevermind, I'm here now. I am definitely not running the Edinburgh Marathon. In fact, I have done no exercise since I gave up on Singapore and currently don't actually have a plan too. My laziness is impressive. In my slight defence, and ignoring the fact I am lazy, I have now been constantly injured for nearly 6 months. What, Good God no! I hear you cry. Wipe those tears away and never fear my trusty minions, I am hard as nails and I can manage. Do you remember all those moons ago when I kept whinging about my shoulder. Well, it is still with me. It is officially a lot better at the moment as an expensive course in chiropractise has been undertaken. Apparently it is me old whiplash injury flaring up after ten years. Me neck has been an odd shape for ten years and the original shoulder injury was it saying that it was bored with that situation and why should it take it lying down, or jogging etc. Apparently the misplaced bones are pretty much under control and now I just have to book into regular massages to stop the muscles clenching and pulling things out of place again. Ten years of muscle damage to fix. Darn those massages. How horrendous!! Anyway, just thought I would bring you up to date on my laziness, I mean injury, and I shall sign off now for a week or so. Next week, as I am not talking about running (as it would get boring saying - didn't do any.) I shall be discussing a random topic. Suggestions are welcome. If I don't get any, then it will be about my love of the film Shark Attack 3. I might just talk about that anyway...... cheerio
Friday, 8 February 2008
Track Training with Hannah, Charlotte and May
I had my first track training session last night and it was pretty much an exercise in humility. Which I suppose is a good thing because I need to be brought down a peg or two.
Last night’s was apparently an “easy” session. A mere 3K speed challenge. This is OK, I though, I can run 3K with my eyes shut (Provided there are no corners or roads). However the whole speed challenge thing was concerning me somewhat. It turned out I was right to be concerned.
A number of things struck me. First, running club members are very, very strange. Men, if you have an arse the size of a grapefruit, it probably isn’t a good idea to wrap it in lycra unless you want to draw horrified glances. Secondly the warm up alone nearly did for me. I have a condition called Congenital Shitness you see. This means I have to train really hard just to be shit at things. Fortunately I am fairly well adjusted and thus don’t feel the need to be competitive. Otherwise I’d be fucked.
Anyway after a lot of retarded hopping about, including the infamous Cockney Skipping (Well done to Charlotte for observing that moving the knees outwards makes any activity far more “Cockney” than keeping them straight) and numerous lunges, we were ready for the off.
And indeed off went everyone. My friends disappeared into the distance and I was reminded of the fact that in this life, we are always truly alone. Especially if our friends are much faster than us.
1K – Friends disappear into tiny specks in distance, but still going strong although emphasemic breathing begins
1.5K – Seeing spots, feeling dizzy and at the back of the pack
2K - Existential angst
2.5 K Arms and legs not responding to brain's desperate urges of “faster faster faster”, however do manage to overtake one person and thus not actually be last
3K Cross finish line puce and feeling like I have stared into the empty eye-sockets of Death himself
Interestingly enough, I did manage to get chatted up while wheezing and being purple in the face which just goes to show what a fox I am. A congenitally shit fox, but a fox none the less.
Today I have a hamstring injury and am limping round like a crip. Time to resurect my stable name of Lasty.
Last night’s was apparently an “easy” session. A mere 3K speed challenge. This is OK, I though, I can run 3K with my eyes shut (Provided there are no corners or roads). However the whole speed challenge thing was concerning me somewhat. It turned out I was right to be concerned.
A number of things struck me. First, running club members are very, very strange. Men, if you have an arse the size of a grapefruit, it probably isn’t a good idea to wrap it in lycra unless you want to draw horrified glances. Secondly the warm up alone nearly did for me. I have a condition called Congenital Shitness you see. This means I have to train really hard just to be shit at things. Fortunately I am fairly well adjusted and thus don’t feel the need to be competitive. Otherwise I’d be fucked.
Anyway after a lot of retarded hopping about, including the infamous Cockney Skipping (Well done to Charlotte for observing that moving the knees outwards makes any activity far more “Cockney” than keeping them straight) and numerous lunges, we were ready for the off.
And indeed off went everyone. My friends disappeared into the distance and I was reminded of the fact that in this life, we are always truly alone. Especially if our friends are much faster than us.
1K – Friends disappear into tiny specks in distance, but still going strong although emphasemic breathing begins
1.5K – Seeing spots, feeling dizzy and at the back of the pack
2K - Existential angst
2.5 K Arms and legs not responding to brain's desperate urges of “faster faster faster”, however do manage to overtake one person and thus not actually be last
3K Cross finish line puce and feeling like I have stared into the empty eye-sockets of Death himself
Interestingly enough, I did manage to get chatted up while wheezing and being purple in the face which just goes to show what a fox I am. A congenitally shit fox, but a fox none the less.
Today I have a hamstring injury and am limping round like a crip. Time to resurect my stable name of Lasty.
Sunday, 27 January 2008
If countries have themes, Borneo's is being covered in chuffing ants
Well I haven’t been running too much because I’ve knackered my ankle. So maybe I will update you on some of our antics in Singapore and Borneo.
SARAWAK CULTURAL VILLAGE
We only went to the Cultural Village by accident when the reception staff at our resort advised us they might sell us beer. There was no beer but we were treated to a very strange cultural experience. It seems the culture of Sarawak involves chasing people from room to room whilst trying to tell them about pepper grinding in broken English.
However the real treat of the experience was the “show”. Every member of staff kept going on about the Show with an enthusiasm that was creepy. “Don’t forget to go to Show” they would say or “Show starts erreven thirty!” I was worried that the Show would involve being hypnotised into thinking that the Cultural Village was really good, but Sarah insisted so at 11.30 we trotted off to the theatre. What happened next was strange but we definitely left thinking that the Cultural Village was REALLY GOOD!
How do I describe it? A cultural soup of dancing airhostesses, jazz hands and a 20 minute Glockenspiel solo. There was audience participation and a clog dancing finale! Marvellous! But the best thing about it was that it contained The Man That Loves His Job (TMTLHJ). We had noted him early on in the show as he seemed to be doing his own versions of most of the dances. We had even speculated that all the staff in the Cultural Village were rotated and he’d be back on gift shop duty tomorrow. But Oh! How wrong we were!
TMTLHJ really came into his own when he performed a solo dance about the Hunter Gatherer catching his prey in the forest. Apparently the people of Sarawak prey mostly on balloon. But anyhow it involved a loin cloth, cycling shorts and an Alsatian skin. It also involved a BLOW DART GUN! We were treated to a ten minute spectacle of hopping about, hamming it up, walking amongst the audience and firing the darts at balloons. At one point a giggling Malay schoolgirl was dragged on stage for a go of the blow gun and at this point Sarah and I cringed so much we nearly turned ourselves inside out. He loved his job though. Loved it.
Other highlights included a man balancing on top of a long pole and spinning on his stomach, before running off stage hunched over and gripping his abdomen. Probably straight to the trauma unit of Kuching hospital.
Needless to say we left the auditorium with tears drying on our faces, if that is hypnosis it really works!
That will do for now, maybe later I will explain to you people why Sarah now wants the jungle to fuck right off and is lobbying for more slash and burn. But that, my friends, is another story.
See more pics here
SARAWAK CULTURAL VILLAGE
We only went to the Cultural Village by accident when the reception staff at our resort advised us they might sell us beer. There was no beer but we were treated to a very strange cultural experience. It seems the culture of Sarawak involves chasing people from room to room whilst trying to tell them about pepper grinding in broken English.
However the real treat of the experience was the “show”. Every member of staff kept going on about the Show with an enthusiasm that was creepy. “Don’t forget to go to Show” they would say or “Show starts erreven thirty!” I was worried that the Show would involve being hypnotised into thinking that the Cultural Village was really good, but Sarah insisted so at 11.30 we trotted off to the theatre. What happened next was strange but we definitely left thinking that the Cultural Village was REALLY GOOD!
How do I describe it? A cultural soup of dancing airhostesses, jazz hands and a 20 minute Glockenspiel solo. There was audience participation and a clog dancing finale! Marvellous! But the best thing about it was that it contained The Man That Loves His Job (TMTLHJ). We had noted him early on in the show as he seemed to be doing his own versions of most of the dances. We had even speculated that all the staff in the Cultural Village were rotated and he’d be back on gift shop duty tomorrow. But Oh! How wrong we were!
TMTLHJ really came into his own when he performed a solo dance about the Hunter Gatherer catching his prey in the forest. Apparently the people of Sarawak prey mostly on balloon. But anyhow it involved a loin cloth, cycling shorts and an Alsatian skin. It also involved a BLOW DART GUN! We were treated to a ten minute spectacle of hopping about, hamming it up, walking amongst the audience and firing the darts at balloons. At one point a giggling Malay schoolgirl was dragged on stage for a go of the blow gun and at this point Sarah and I cringed so much we nearly turned ourselves inside out. He loved his job though. Loved it.
Other highlights included a man balancing on top of a long pole and spinning on his stomach, before running off stage hunched over and gripping his abdomen. Probably straight to the trauma unit of Kuching hospital.
Needless to say we left the auditorium with tears drying on our faces, if that is hypnosis it really works!
That will do for now, maybe later I will explain to you people why Sarah now wants the jungle to fuck right off and is lobbying for more slash and burn. But that, my friends, is another story.
See more pics here
Thursday, 10 January 2008
And just what exactly are you looking at?
Well 2008 is underway and we are all seriously thinking about training for the Edinburgh Marathon. I’ve even been running a few times. Hannah is threatening us with the Serpentines Track Training. I don’t actually know what this is, but I am hoping it involves lying on a track with the eyes closed while nubile young men rub oils into you and feed you maltesers. However I suspect it is going to be more like running round and round in circles at gathering speeds, before finally collapsing and being sick over your hands. Hannah seems to think it’s going to hurt anyway.
My last attempt at a run was rather abortive and ended prematurely with me having a bit of a lie down on the pavement after falling down a big hole in the ground. Some serious injuries were incurred including a twisted ankle, a bit of grit embedded so deeply in my hand that it had to be removed by open hand surgery and a shattered pelvis.
Ok not the pelvis.
So let’s have another go tonight. I’m aiming for about 4.5 miles, maybe 5 if I feel superhuman.
Oh dear.
My last attempt at a run was rather abortive and ended prematurely with me having a bit of a lie down on the pavement after falling down a big hole in the ground. Some serious injuries were incurred including a twisted ankle, a bit of grit embedded so deeply in my hand that it had to be removed by open hand surgery and a shattered pelvis.
Ok not the pelvis.
So let’s have another go tonight. I’m aiming for about 4.5 miles, maybe 5 if I feel superhuman.
Oh dear.
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