Bloody knee. The thing is still hurting after over two weeks, restricting me to only a few pain-filled short attempts at mileage. Pain, aches, clicks – nothing serious it seems but enough of a niggle to know something’s wrong. Hopefully I’m going to see a specialist this week to get an official opinion on my injury and advice on what to do.
It’s very frustrating but I’m not losing hope. I’ve got almost three months left, which some people will say is just enough to start from scratch, and I’ve plenty of miles behind me already. I’ll get out on my bike more, do the exercise, get the knee supports and gradually work my way back.
In the meantime, I must make sure my standards don’t slip. Usually I’d go for a long run on the Saturday, but as I knew I wouldn’t be up for that, I had the (cough) odd extra drink on Friday. Actually, it was a great night. My best mate’s over from New York for the week, so everyone came out and had a few beers until quite late. I also seem to remember every time I turned around I was being offered a new vodka Red Bull! My wallet appeared to tell me the next morning that I had at least reciprocated a round or two. At least I had the sense to protect my knee and not decide to walk the three miles home this time, however.
Also had some great Playstation and Wii action at various points during the weekend. Give me a 100m dash in any athletics game and I’m simply the king!
I’m hoping the Olympics won’t be tarnished by drugs this year. I know it will – they always are – I just want the impact to be minimal. A lot of medals have had to be handed back over the years as later people admit wrong-doings. It just makes a mockery of the event at the time and spoils great moments in history.
I’ll always remember betting my mate on the outcome of the 1988 100m final. His hero was the legend Carl Lewis, but I knew Candian Ben Johnson would triumph this time. Johnson crossed the line, finger pointing to the sky as he set a new world record of 9.79, with a forlorn Lewis trailing in his wake. I punched the air with delight. Victory and £1 was mine…only for the son-of-a-bitch to be found guilty of doping three days later.
Cheers Ben – that’s three days of gloating totally ruined…just like your reputation.