WEDNESDAY 3rd MARCH 
Two days after the Winter Hill race I ground to a halt during the early stages of a club track session. I was hoping to 'run off' the nagging burning sensation around my left ankle and general feeling of weakness in the achilles tendon area. Meanwhile the right knee was aggrivated by only the slightest exercise in weight baring, such as simply walking downstairs. Infact, overall I felt washed out and weak at the very core. I must have thought I could run all that lot off too!
There was simply nothing in the tank, no zing, no ping, nothing. Just the feeling that I needed to rest up and hope I hadn't pushed myself to some long term injury. Two weeks on and no improvement. I still felt shackled and strangely didn't feel any frustration or temptation to even try and run. Whilst in Cumbria on a weekend break, I thought of Kenny Stuart, the postman from Threlkeld. An absolute fell running legend and top road marathoner whose running career just seemed to hit a wall without any sort of bonified reason. Never in a million years would I compare my athletic prowess to Kenny's, but what we all have in common as living creatures on this earth is a threshold of how far we can push our bodies before damage is done.
Tired at work, tired by the causes of work, how did I manage to go running most nights aswell anyway? I was looking on Ebay pricing up a set of woods. Plan 'B' if my running days came to a halt has always been to take up Crown Green bowls.
After week three on the sidelines I felt I had to try and do something. With less than two months to go to the Three Peaks race, I had to discover if realistically I still had a chance of competing in it. I had a blast on the bike for half an hour hoping my knee would cope and this was to be a turning point. Endorphines at last and with nights getting lighter, the bike was to be my training salvation. Within a few days I was mixing in a bit of low tempo running. At last I felt recharged and whilst I could still feel my niggles, I was being careful not to aggrivate them and all seemed well after two weeks steadily building things up. The next step was to get back out on the fells, but the Sunday I had planned for this clashed with the Northern Road Relays which I had committed to the Harriers. Maybe a jaunt on the fells Monday then, I reconsidered, afterall I had happily accepted a place in the 'B' team for the relays so could canter around the course without too much pressure whilst still doing my bit for club loyalty. What could possibly go wrong?