Sunday, March 15, 2009

Sober And Incapable

I walked 16 kms today. So what, you say, are you not the Big Walker, who regularly does 30 kms a day, 6 days a week, and intends to do so for 10 weeks on the trot (sorry!) next year?
Well, yes, but I have not been entirely honest with you. I have not walked for a week. Not as in “going for a walk”. Not since we left the Wist Cowst, as they say here, and came, across the stunning mountain passes and through enormous flat, glacier scoured valleys, to Hanmer Springs. A bit of tottering around town is all I have managed.

The trouble is, that cold which descended upon me 10 days or so ago, proved to be a bit more than a cold, at least in the leg-sapping area anyway. I don't think it was full blown 'flu, or I would have been bedridden, but I was certainly incapable of doing that which we came here for, long walks in the beautiful woods and hills which surround Hanmer.

The reason I didn't mention it is because this blog, to the casual, unsympathetic observer, also to me, was beginning to resemble a hypochondriac's diary, at least since the beginning of January, in fact since we landed in New Zild, as they also say here. I am not a hypochondriac and have only mentioned these ongoing ailments insofar as they affect walking.

But a missing week – a week without a walk – is a bit difficult to explain without coming clean.
Amazingly, my pedometer tells me that, despite all this, I have managed to clock up over 60 kms during the week. Most of that was walking up into town and back for coffee.

Nevertheless, a week off during VBW would be disastrous. I could continue walking if afflicted by a mere nose cold, but a wobbly leg job like this would be a real problem. There is some leeway built into my schedule, but not much. The only ways I could catch up would be to miss out the rest days or to walk maybe 40 kms each day instead of 30. And to increase effort during or immediately after an illness is really asking for trouble – as I know to my cost, having once run a marathon while feeling vaguely unwell – boy, did I pay for that later in the week, and for the next two or three weeks!

Sobering thoughts.

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