On Friday I had a busy day so got up and set off at 7.15am. It was still dark as I rounded the end of our street, and in the shadows I saw a dark figure looming, a terrifying shape lurking in the darkness... a fox! Not just any fox though, an urban fox - the fierce street wise cousin of the sweet gentle fluffy orange country fox. This fox was lankey and rangey, with dull brown fur and a steely look in his eye. I stopped mid stomp, a few feet away from him. He looked at me, I looked at him. He tensed and I flinched, ready to run from an attack, but he must have been more scared of me than I was of him and after an intense couple of seconds he darted off and disappeared into someones garden. My mysterious headache was persisting so I was grateful to have the streets to myself, no chattering chimp children or cold commuters careering around or cars kicking up a fuss in my way. Hearing the thud thud thud of every step echoing in my head I plodded round resolutely but uncomfortably. My will for it all to be over spurred me on and I completed my painfull efforts in 44 minutes.
Friday night I went to Kings Lynn for the Saturday, and in preparation for that I had packed all my walking equipment. Saturday morning rolled around and I pulled on all my clothes, which is when I realised I'd forgotten my trainers. Undeterred even with this pesky headache still hanging around I decided to give it a try in my pumps, and so set off (looking utterly ridiculous in leggings fluffy socks hoody and ballet pumps) on my Kings Lynn route - to the Retreat and back you'll recall from earlier blogs. So instead of stompt-stomp-stomp I was more in the pattern of step-shuffle-shoe falls off-step-shuffle-shoe falls off, but still maintaining a decent pace. About a mile in I tripped and scuffed my shoe, only to see my toe appear through the front of my shoe. I stopped to examine the extent of the damage, and as I wriggled my foot a few more toes burst through the flimsy material. Deterred now, having completed 1 mile in 16 minutes in a bizarre fashion, I turned round and limped back to Martys.
Today my head was beginning to do my head in by continuing to hurt, but I still went to our rugby match. The good news is we won 71 - 5, the bad news being that I ended up zooming to hospital after the match in an ambulance, going on to be diagnosed with concussion, and told I'll need to lay off the rugby for at least a week, and to take it easy on all excersise. Therefore I'll declare tomorrow a rest day in advance, though it may have to turn into a rest week... Damn you stupid head, I have walking to do!