The joys of chafing - In the name of Thiago - Day 133

I slept terribly last night. I woke up at shortly after three, went for a Jimmy and it must have been another three hours before I got back to sleep. I was meant to get up at 6.45. I didn’t have to, I just wanted to get going so I didn’t lose the whole day to the walk. After all, I do have a family that I think still wants to see me occasionally, though perhaps I’m making a hugely inaccurate assumption!

My later start allowed me to take a few more moments to enjoy the garden this morning. After I finished my blog last night, we put the tent up in the garden. It was a proper family effort complete with the usual swearing, exasperated looks and frustration that we’d left it so long. It was bloody freezing too, so in all fairness I’d fully expected Elisa to bail out. No chance.

This handwritten note that ‘camping Elisa’ left for Angelica and I this morning suggests that it wasn’t all plain sailing though. But good on her for sticking it out, she’s a good ‘un that girl, no question. And perhaps she’s developing an interest in astronomy..

But all this couldn’t delay the inevitable – I needed to get back on with the walking training. I’ve been doing short walks during lockdown but they’ve only been 40 minutes to an hour and a half at the most and I need to be doing much more. Today showed me how far I’ve gone backwards since my last long walk in March, but it’s okay, I’ve got four months now to get the fitness back before the serious stuff begins in September.

This is me barely even a mile in looking fairly chipper, wearing my beautiful Thiago heart made by the remarkable Gemma Smith. The cheery look (ok the cheery feeling if not the look!) was because the weather was set fair, which was a blessed relief as the last time I took on this route with Steve we got smashed to fuckery by the elements.

I was truly broken on that occasion. My smugness didn’t last too long today though, and I had to rely on a lot of determination to even complete the 14.85 miles the VeryFitPro app says I walked today. When I see that app’s name on my phone it always makes me chuckle. Elisa said it should be called VeryFatPro for me, that is until I told her what a pro was.

I left the house shortly after nine and by a quarter past ten I felt like I needed a poo and my inner thighs were chafing already. It was at that very moment that I allowed a negative thought to enter my head, basically how the fuck am I going to manage 300 miles if this is the start I’ve made after an enforced two month break?

After about five miles I stopped for this apology of a Gold bar: other than that I didn’t really stop anywhere. This was my first big walk since the lockdown and I can’t say that it was as enjoyable as my pre-lockdown walks and fuck me, am I already fed up with cyclists? I think I’d have quite enjoyed seeing one fly into the canal today.

The families cycling are fine – they’re always very considerate – it’s the groups of men who do my nut. And why are they all cycling on the pavements, dinging their bells trying to get me to move? Fuck ‘em I say, which perhaps is a touch unreasonable but nonetheless a fair reflection of today’s activities!

Here’s me outside the pub. That’s a painful sentence to write, the equally pained look on my face encapsulates the situation rather well I think. I got home about half two, peeled off my clothes and limped into the bath. I felt pathetic. But at shortly after 6pm I have to say I feel much better. I only have one blister, which bodes well and I’m off to look for some aqueous cream for my thighs, at the recommendation of Mr Jamie Hickey.

Keep supporting the cause folks. My target of £10,000 is still a little too far off for my liking, so I really need to start pulling in a few donations if at all possible as I do my best to create a real legacy for my little hero, Thiago. He’s the single reason for all this inspiration. So come on guys, let’s do it for my little man.


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