Happy St George’s Day. 

He murdered a dragon, before you ask. 

I’ve decided a week and a half is long enough absolute healing time for my ankle so have headed down the gym for some light cycling. 

While I’ve read I need to set the resistance to basically zero, it will be good to do something other than lie on the couch and watch endless episodes of ID channel murder documentaries. It’s strange but incredibly noticeable how doing sweet FA leaves you feeling more tired than you be if you workout. 

My ankle has been feeling around 60-70% stable, which is so much better than it was before the weekend. It no longer hurts to walk on and only threatens to feel like dislocation when I step on significantly sloped or unstable ground. Last week, it felt like clicking out of place every time I changed direction, no matter how subtle the change was. 

Anyway, I’m about ten minutes into a dull, unchallenging hour ride. Hopefully the ankle responds well. 

Other than that, I’m pretty damn pleased that my visa was extended another two years. Living on borrowed time is pretty unsettling when you allow yourself to think about. I make out that I have a ‘eh, it’ll all work out in the end’ attitude, but I think a large part of that is just not wanting to think about a problem. 

I should probably celebrate with a Keystone Light or some equally quality American beer, shouldn’t I? 

(Oh, I’ll be spending the next 50 minutes reading ‘I, Partridge (We need to talk about Alan)’. If you aren’t aware of Alan Partridge, you need to correct that; if you are and haven’t yet read this book:do. I’ve been openly spluttering with laughter on the subway to work each morning.)

Happy St George’s Day.

He murdered a dragon, before you ask.

I’ve decided a week and a half is long enough absolute healing time for my ankle so have headed down the gym for some light cycling.

While I’ve read I need to set the resistance to basically zero, it will be good to do something other than lie on the couch and watch endless episodes of ID channel murder documentaries. It’s strange but incredibly noticeable how doing sweet FA leaves you feeling more tired than you be if you workout.

My ankle has been feeling around 60-70% stable, which is so much better than it was before the weekend. It no longer hurts to walk on and only threatens to feel like dislocation when I step on significantly sloped or unstable ground. Last week, it felt like clicking out of place every time I changed direction, no matter how subtle the change was.

Anyway, I’m about ten minutes into a dull, unchallenging hour ride. Hopefully the ankle responds well.

Other than that, I’m pretty damn pleased that my visa was extended another two years. Living on borrowed time is pretty unsettling when you allow yourself to think about. I make out that I have a ‘eh, it’ll all work out in the end’ attitude, but I think a large part of that is just not wanting to think about a problem.

I should probably celebrate with a Keystone Light or some equally quality American beer, shouldn’t I?

(Oh, I’ll be spending the next 50 minutes reading ‘I, Partridge (We need to talk about Alan)’. If you aren’t aware of Alan Partridge, you need to correct that; if you are and haven’t yet read this book:do. I’ve been openly spluttering with laughter on the subway to work each morning.)

Oh, you know, just celebrating the news that my visa has been extended until 2016 by listening to Bloc Party’s Two More Years!

The symbolism of this song is actually lost when you listen to lyrics…. I’ll just listen to the chorus!

I am really on a streak at the moment.

Obviously, as I mentioned, I sprained my left ankle (I have self-diagnosed ‘moderate’ sprain as it was incredibly unstable throughout the first week, constantly trying to ‘re-roll’) playing football (the soccer variety). The ankle is beginning to feel a little better but is still swollen, as you can see. It still requires bandaging to give it support, but it’s improving, which is something.

Not only that, but on Friday night/Saturday morning, I was getting ready for bed (admittedly slightly inebriated) - as I walked to get some water, I slammed the little toe on my right foot against the corner of a wall, tearing off the skin, leaving an open wound that has yet to show any intention of healing and meaning it really hurts when I try and bend it

Essentially what this means is that walking is very sore at the moment, and I suppose it will be another 1-2 weeks before I’m running with confidence or playing football again. Ho hum.

On the left, I used focal blur so you don’t have to look at my toes (sorry, foot porn lovers) and on the right I have pixellated the photo so you don’t have to look at the true nature of the injury (sorry open-wound-toe-porn lovers).

Yesterday, while cleaning my bedroom, I found a ribbon I had been handed on National Running Day while running Central Park last year. Printed in Boston Marathon colours, it simply says ‘Runners Unite’.

The message could be read in a couple of different ways, but I know, however rather than being taken as an order, or a plea, it is read in a far more matter of fact way: runners DO unite.

Regardless of the fitness fads that come-and-go, backed by huge organisations proclaiming to provide the best community or support, I have never experienced anything quite like the running community.

With running, there is no membership fee, no single approved clothing line, you don’t get looked down upon if you don’t buy the correct supplements, or eat paleo - all you need to do… is run. There’s beauty in the simplicity of it all.

I was at Boston the day before the marathon last year and was overwhelmed by the pride emanating from the blue and yellow clad athletes. Boston felt more like an athletes’ village than a city and while I’m not the calibre of runner who could hit the BQ time to run it, I felt truly inspired by the talent that surrounded me. There was something more electric about the reaction of the runners knowing how hard they had worked to earn their places at the start line.

I can’t imagine how emotional it must feel to run the marathon this year, but I do know that if there was ever a support group you’d want around you at a time like this, it’s one made up of your fellow runners.

So, with that, good luck to everyone running Boston today!

Some photos I took yesterday of a fairly exhausting, but great day.

I was allowed out of work early so joined the girlfriend at Grand Central around 3pm, where she had just helped a friend of ours propose to his girlfriend in pretty spectacular fashion. After a few drinks with the happy couple, we headed to Williamsburg to meet a friend, before going to Brooklyn Bowl (amazing music venue-cum-bowling alley) to watch a band called Moon Taxi.

I’m now really hungover and staying in bed all day.

Photo descriptions:
Grand Central main hall, Grand Central signage, Coney Island Mermaid Pilsner with very cool label design, girlfriend enjoyin Grand Central’s whispering hall, utterly random but amusing Twins drawing on a cash machine in Williamsburg, Mac and Cheese pizza (mac and chizza?), random, yet staggeringly talented 10-year old kid who came on during The Revivalists’ final song and effortlessly knocked out 3 fantastic guitar solos. 

Today’s update from the hobbling fool. 

I had a very important client meeting today. Midway through the meeting, I glanced down at my strapped up ankle and realised that, to all intents and purposes, it looked like I was wearing white socks with a suit and dress shoes. 

"Ah, sorry, just, in case you’ve noticed - which you probably haven’t - but, in case you’ve noticed, I’m not wearing white socks. I have a sprained ankle, it’s a bandage, I’m not dressing like I’ve just been in gym class and lost my socks. Or Michael Jackson."

As it turned out, the client HAD noticed and was relieved to hear the reason for my fashion faux-pas. 

Now. I’m sitting in a diner, white sock showing to the entire restaurant. I’m a little less bothered about what everyone thinks of me here, as their opinions of me won’t affect my salary! 

Current status: still slightly swollen, still purple, still tender, still not able to rest it as much as I should.

Today’s update from the hobbling fool.

I had a very important client meeting today. Midway through the meeting, I glanced down at my strapped up ankle and realised that, to all intents and purposes, it looked like I was wearing white socks with a suit and dress shoes.

"Ah, sorry, just, in case you’ve noticed - which you probably haven’t - but, in case you’ve noticed, I’m not wearing white socks. I have a sprained ankle, it’s a bandage, I’m not dressing like I’ve just been in gym class and lost my socks. Or Michael Jackson."

As it turned out, the client HAD noticed and was relieved to hear the reason for my fashion faux-pas.

Now. I’m sitting in a diner, white sock showing to the entire restaurant. I’m a little less bothered about what everyone thinks of me here, as their opinions of me won’t affect my salary!

Current status: still slightly swollen, still purple, still tender, still not able to rest it as much as I should.

Presenting you with: Chris’ Sprained Ankle (04/16/14)

Current status: deep, rich port-coloured bruises below the ankle, as well as two peculiar bruising streaks alongside it. 

Doesn’t hurt to walk on too much, slightly tender to touch, feels unstable when nudged or rocked side to side.

Presenting you with: Chris’ Sprained Ankle (04/16/14)

Current status: deep, rich port-coloured bruises below the ankle, as well as two peculiar bruising streaks alongside it.

Doesn’t hurt to walk on too much, slightly tender to touch, feels unstable when nudged or rocked side to side.