Chesley asked after Jesus the other day . . . let me assure you that the wee man is doing just fine and is full of the joys of Spring. I think he missed me when I was away . . or perhaps just felt the loss of his Primary Snack Provider. I am enjoying his restorative company, anyway. Here he is about to make his usual daring entrance through the bathroom window.
Meanwhile, in physioworld, things are going well. Very well in fact – the dorsiflexion has seen some dramatic improvements over the past few days. I can now tell my foot to shift upwards or over to the side, and it does so with relative ease. Given how little action there has been at the end of my leg and how difficult it’s been trying to “find” the foot in recent weeks, this seems quite remarkable. My physiotherapist speculates that Sunday’s long, fast walk might have had something to do with it. Now I’ve just got to sort out the calf . . .and the hip . . . and the hamstring . . .and the ankle . . . and the shoulder . . . I keep working on it.
In other exciting news, Tom has received a prestigious award from his running club. The Golden Trotter is selected annually for her or his commitment to the club, and for being a general all- round good egg. While this framed delight will hang on our kitchen wall, Tom must now run for the rest of the year in the “true” Golden Trotter vest which has been worn continually by the Chosen One for over a decade and which is looking more than a little worse for wear. Said garment is covered in holes, held together with safety pins, and decorated with some sad remnants of appliqué which once spelt out “Golden Trotter”. I have offered to darn the many holes, fix the appliqué or, indeed, embroider a new vest, but this is apparently, sacrilege. On Sunday, Tom will run the Blackpool half marathon clad in this sinister brown rag. . .
I shall be there cheering on the Golden Trotter as he runs down the Golden Mile and intend to attempt my own marathon of sorts along the sea front between Lytham and St Annes. More anon!