I met up with Aki today to attend the Sri Chinmoy 10k run at Acton. Earlier in the week, weather conditions were slated to be perfect all week - maximum of 17 each day with no more than light cloud. It changed for the weekend however to deteriorating conditions on Saturday, with wind and rain today. Fortunately, conditions were pretty good in the morning, although local tempests developed around 10:30 - 11:00am and made it rather miserable and grey from then on.

Aki had a blinder of a run - her full report is here. Yesterday I prepared to go for a cycle, it taking a long time to prepare, not surprisingly, as I hunted out the cold weather gear and stuff for the bike. I felt good. Damn good. Bob's cold had established into a very nasty cough and he managed to secure an appointment at our GP's clinic on Saturday morning. Tyres pumped up, a supply of arm warmers, Geocaching maps and waypoints (it does take a while getting prepared for this fun activity), and other things dug out of their hiding places in our storage compromised house and I was ready to go - almost. As the garmin was searching for a satellite, Bob rang to suggest that we cycle together as soon as he gets home. He had finished with the doctor and only needed to fill a prescription for penicillin. I kept myself productive in the kitchen while I was waiting, but unfortunately, the Saturday morning crush at the pharmacy took a long, long time, and before he walked in the door it was all I could do to stop crawling into bed for a nap.

Bob was too tired when he got home (he lacks the shopping gene like me), and so I turned off the garmin, which was waiting in anticipation on the bike, and, still in my cycling knicks, socks and jersey climbed under the covers of the study bed "for a bit of a rest". Three hours or so later I woke up.

I was still lacking all energy and developed rather painful diarrhoea during the afternoon and evening. (Sorry, but it is relevant). I had to have a number of sitz baths to soothe the pain, and was confused at how I can get 'Delhi Belly' when returning from an undeveloped country to affluent Australia. I had few significant problems whilst away, a wonderful respite and good break for 6 weeks. I wasn't sure about how I would go with running the next morning, but thought that if the diarrhoea went away I should be OK.

Although a bit painful overnight, otherwise it was alright and I headed off trying to convince myself of having modest goals. There were, as usual, quite a few familiar friendly faces at the start of the 10k, and the chill in the air had picked up, causing me to put on tights and warmer clothes even though it was very close in time to the start. We started close to on time, and I settled into a happy, slow and comfortable pace, conscious of my polar beeping at 5:30 intervals, although not too concerned about keeping at this pace over the first few kilometres.

I eased up, and warmed up enough to remove my warmest fleece as the k's ticked by. However spasms of searing pain returned around the 4km mark. At 4.5km I was forced to stop cold in great pain, and knew that I needed to get back to the start. However with a stream of runners coming in the other direction, I didn't want them to be concerned about me cheating (I wouldn't have gone through the finish chute, but they weren't to know that), and after all what was another 500 metres? Actually it's an extra 1 kilometre where it's least needed. My pace dropped substantially, and as I came up to the turnaround I considered whether to ask for a lift back to the start with Amelendu. For reasons which seem perfectly reasonable to me (being unsure of how dirty or smell I may have been), I elected to continue and get back as quickly as I could. This plan fell apart as the sharp daggers of pain seared through. I automatically jammed my finger or thumb in my mouth when the pain made me made too many audible squelches.

Alas, within the kilometre I stopped and, with too many similarities to the Vets Half Marathon of 2004 (it was almost at the same point, and I was consoling myself with the fact that at least it was much shorter back to the finish on this occasion! I did not reinforce that the movement I did then was very bad and contributed to the serious nature of the problem; that would have been counterproductive.

After barely four or five minutes of this, a girl came alongside me, stopping completely to my embarrassment, to ask if I was OK. Sorry, but I was somewhat bitter and twisted at this stage. It turned out that she had been at High School with me some decades (25-30 years?!) earlier and recognised me. I found out that this was her first 10k, and not wanting to hold her up any longer and wanting to get to the finish as quickly as possible, I began to jog with her. It was a very easy pace, but still more painful than walking. I chatted incessantly as a form of distraction and was delighted to have the company. It turns out that the alumni had been in Canberra since 1987 - the same year that I arrived - funny how things turn out!

I had to stop a few times, and was pleased to see Aki on Hospital Hill, doing a warm down and checking to see if I was OK. Bob had cycled down to the site, and I had wondered earlier if I could get a message to him to throw his bike in the car and pick me up, although Bob had probably already left. My brain must have been addled, as I couldn't work out what time Aki had run despite asking her a number of times. I knew it must have been good. On finishing, I gathered my kit of gear and disappeared to change. I felt must better, although started to get the notion that this was a prolapse happening again, not just diarrhoea. It was certainly painful.

When I got home, I foolishly however essential it was, jumped in a bath and crawled into bed. Boy did I hurt. A lot more blood, not all of it fresh than I had thought. I slept once I could ameliorate the discomfort of "lying straight in bed". That evening I found that sitting, walking etc hurt far too much, and I ended up resting in bed. I'm a bit grumpy about it - although should be grateful that I wasn't either overseas, or even in Albury for Nail Can Hill. I now realise that the Half Marathon, at whatever pace is unreasonable (damn it), and will need to see the doctor and surgeon again when I can move around a bit better.