The power of the subconscious

Yep, as Taz has reported, I received my race pack on Saturday morning. I wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry! On Saturday evening, however, I slipped off the kerb 10 metres or so from my house and went over on my ankle, causing much swearage. Was it coincidence, or just my subconscious trying to give me an excuse to wuss out?


So I spent the next three days taking it easy with the offending body part encased in a fetching tubigrip bandage. It had stopped hurting by yesterday morning, and today I walked five and a half of the eight miles home from Greenwich with only a *bit* of a twinge. Not in badger costume, granted, but in unseasonably warm velvet trousers, t-shirt and woolly jumper, so I'm beginning to get a hint of the level of discomfort that lies ahead...