Monday, 7 May 2012

Philosophical, or supine?

A few weeks ago I drove from Macclesfield to the Wirral to look at a car I was keen on buying, picking my stepfather up along the way, on the basis that two sets of eyes are better than one when spending a few grand of your own money with one of those charlatans known as second-hand car dealers. It took the best part of 90 minutes to get there, and when we arrived, said vehicle was standing out the front, all shiny and lovely, with all the bits I wanted, and at a very reasonable price.

However, as I went into the showroom to meet the shifty scouser of a salesman, he met me at the door and announced that the car was in fact, sold. This was 11.30 am on a Saturday morning, and I'd specifically called at 5 pm on the Friday night to ensure that the thing was available. It seems that someone from south Wales had liked the look of the thing so much he'd put a substantial deposit down over the phone. I was, shall we say, quite cross initially, an emotion which subsided into a general air of hacked-offness within half an hour or so.  During that half hour I sat in quite a nice pub overlooking the Wirral and part of north Wales with said stepfather, who very kindly bought us both some surprisingly fine coffee, and who consoled me with words along the lines of "these things are meant to be, don't worry about it, something just as good will come up". At the time I appreciated the sentiment, but didn't believe it. But lo! A few days later I thought I'd get a price from the lease firm who ran the company car I was driving at the time for its purchase, what with me leaving the employer who furnished me with vehicle. It turned out to be very reasonable indeed, much more reasonable than I'd dared hope, with the result that I'm now the owner and driver of the car that I didn't want to give back in the first place. So, Jim (stepfather), maybe he was right?

The point of that story is that my incapacity is coming and going at the moment, and I'm trying to stay philosophical about it. Yesterday, for example, I ran just under 14 miles. Today, I can't run 14 steps. Some would say the two facts might be linked, and they might be right. However, I didn't feel enfeebled at 7 am this morning, when I awoke to unexpected sunshine, and I resolved to do a gentle run. The cat was howling for food as it usually is at the time of day, so I went downstairs to feed her before getting changed into my running gear. As I walked in the kitchen I heard one of those dispiriting noises that usually means something's gone horribly wrong. This particular one was "psssssssssssssss". It turned out to be a split hose to the cold tap at the kitchen sink, and as a consequence the cupboard under the sink was in several centimetres of water, everything in there was ruined, and the kitchen floorboards were beginning to soak up the excess. "Yes!", I cried, "I can think of no finer start to my bank holiday". So all thoughts of a run were banished as I set to turning water off, soaking up the mess, diagnosing the problem, removing the offending item, and beginning the Great British Bank Holiday Tour of DIY shops to find the right part. (None had it; I'm off to Plumb Center [sic] first thing tomorrow).

And yet......philosophical bit....maybe I'd have buggered my leg up properly if I had gone for a run......and also, would it have been better to have discovered the problem on a working day? Clearly not. Which leads me on to think that this problem I've got at the moment - yes, it's a darned nuisance, and yes, it's stopping me doing some things I'd like to do (should have run Shakespeare Marathon last weekend), but maybe it's meant to be. I've had seven years of training hard and doing challenging events, and perhaps this is just an enforced breather. Who knows? Maybe I should even do no exercise whatsoever in an attempt to get the thing right. I'd buy that if it weren't for the fact that the problem's been caused more by driving a desk than a bicycle.

The risk with being philosophical of course is that you accept everything life throws at you, and instead of fighting back where you can, you turn into a supine bundle of patheticness. I don't think I'm at that stage yet, and I'm certainly going to be pressing for some more investigation into my problem at my next appointment on Friday. (Look away now if talk of bodily functions upsets you: the old sciatic nerve can affect one's plumbing, and regrettably I seem to have reached that stage - standing up egress-based activity is occurring more often than average, whilst seated egression is at its usual frequency, but the parcels being delivered are larger than usual, placing some strain on the transportation system, and more specifically the actual point of exit. If you know what I mean).

Looking back, there hasn't been enough scatological discussion on this blog over the months, so I'm going to take my leave now, knowing I've gone some way to putting that right. If it's upset you, I apologise, but in line with my mood I shall be philosophical about your distress.

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