I bust my tendon running,
And didn’t even know,
There was no pop or crack or stab,
I just got very slow
And by the time the finish came
My feet would hardly go.
I gave myself some blisters
Running the day before
I should have stopped much earlier
When they started getting sore
But no, I kept on going
Being greedy, wanting more.
If I had been unwise then
I got unwiser the next day
When I covered sores with plasters
Then set off on my way
Careering ‘cross the Common
Up steep muddy pathways.
The first four miles were fine
But the final one was not,
I stubbornly still jogged along
Then walked then limped then hopped
All the way back to the car park
Where I found a seat and flopped.
I took my foot and prodded
As hard as I would dare
But however much I pressed it
The pain just wasn’t there
Though as soon as I stood up
It hurt enough to make me swear.
There is no inflammation,
No redness, bruise or bump,
My foot - it looks just fine,
While I’m a proper grump
Cos instead of being active
I’m stuck sat here on my rump.
So I went off to the doctor
To see what he would say
Hoping for nothing serious
Like a fracture, tear or sprain,
Instead a little bruising
That would clear up in a day.
The brave man took my foot
Twisted it from side to side,
Did some more expert prodding,
Then seemed to decide
His inspection was sufficient
And pulled out a fat guide.
He opened at a picture
Of a big foot all laid bare
Pointed at the ‘Peroneous brevis’
Saying “Look, it’s that one there,
You’ve probably inflamed it
Just rest and take some care.”
So it seems it’s ok really,
But I’ll have to take a break
And pop some paracetamol
Or put up with the ache.
I just hope it gets better quickly
For my sanity’s sake...
