The calf has been tested by walking a lot. And that includes Forest Drive (the posh one in Bishopscourt, not the crappy one in Pinelands) which is 100m of going upwards in 650m of going forwards (mainly upwards and forwards).

So today a gentle jog around the neighbourhood seemed in order. And off I went.
Bit of uphill – lovely. Bit of flat stuff – lovely. Bit of downhill – lovely. Finally!

But still taking things slowly because I’m older and wiser than I used to be.

And then I jogged down Oak Avenue (the one with the dead cat) and just as I got to the bottom there was a twangy poppy snappy ping and some pretty nasty pain from my left leg, and now I had a couple of kilometres and the best part of 100m to climb before I was home – with a mashed calf.

It probably didn’t help.

And so ice packs and drugs have been the order for the afternoon (plus some Deep Heat, because who doesn’t want to smell like a Frenchman’s groin?).

I think I need to chat to my physio next week.