Day 95: The Road to Recovery (Hopefully)

A Sensible Sort of Run

Today’s run was another base run—steady, controlled, and, in theory, uneventful. With the London Marathon now looming on the horizon like a particularly large and judgmental storm cloud, it was just over an hour at a sensible pace.

Setting off from The Math School, I took the familiar route into Borstal, over the Medway Bridge and down into Strood. The morning air was crisp but not biting, the sort of temperature that makes running feel effortless for the first few miles before reality inevitably sets in. The sun was just beginning to stretch its golden fingers across the sky, casting long shadows over the Medway and for a brief, blissful moment, everything felt in balance—me, the road and the world.

The Medway Bridge is a familiar landmark by now, its structure a comforting signpost in my training, marking the transition from Medway into the heart of Rochester and Strood. There’s something reassuring about that rhythm, the steady pattern of footfalls against the pavement, the distant hum of traffic, the occasional dog walker giving a polite nod. It’s these small details that make each run unique, even when the route remains the same.

A Backhanded Problem

However, as I approached the ancient Rochester Bridge, my lower back decided it had been feeling a little too neglected and made itself known. Not in a dramatic, collapse-in-the-street sort of way, but in that quietly insistent fashion that suggests something might be slightly amiss. Like a pub bore, it started off as a small nuisance and then refused to go away.

At first, I tried to adjust my posture—straighten up, engage my core, shorten my stride. Sometimes these small changes are enough to trick the body into compliance. Not today. The ache on the right side of my lower back persisted, a nagging discomfort that was impossible to ignore. I focused on maintaining form and pushing through, but it was clear that my body was trying to tell me something and I had been running long enough to know that ignoring these signals rarely ends well.

I finished the run, but the discomfort lingered like an unwanted guest at the end of a party, ignoring all hints to leave. Running through niggles is one thing; running through something that feels increasingly like a problem is quite another. The last thing I need, so close to race day, is an issue that could turn from a whisper into a shout.

Seeking Professional Wisdom

After much internal debate (and the realisation that ‘just stretching it out’ is not, in fact, a miracle cure), I have made the sensible decision to book in with the osteopath tomorrow. It turns out that ignoring an issue does not, in fact, make it go away—something that also applies to tax returns, unwashed coffee cups and the final few miles of a long run when you start bargaining with yourself about exactly how much effort is strictly necessary.

I know there’s a temptation, especially in the final stretch of marathon training, to soldier on regardless, to push through the pain and hope for the best. But experience—and more than a few mistakes along the way—have taught me that stubbornness is not always a substitute for strategy. If something is wrong, it needs addressing now, not after the finish line.

So for today, another hot bath, some rest and a firm hope that tomorrow’s appointment will work some magic. The Marathon waits for no one, but if I’m going to make it to the start line, I’d rather not be held together by sheer stubbornness alone.