OW

I went for a run yesterday dressed like a mummy. Both knees strapped (I can’t risk strapping the wrong one again) with an ankle brace on my right ankle.Twenty minutes into the race my ankle caved and I went over it followed by a
F*************ck’ and collapsed to the ground in tears. And back to the physio I went this morning.

Muscle torturer: Baglett, I told you not to run.
Me: Pffft, what do you know?
MT: Quite a lot actually.
Me: Well I got a second opinion and he said it was fine for me to run.
MT: And who was this second opinion from?
Me: My ankle.
MT: And I bet you haven’t been doing your strengthening exercises.
Me: I have. These heels for example work wonders.
MT: They’re six inches of ankle hell Baglett. Are you friggin mad?
Me: Don’t shout at me, I’ll get another second opinion.
MT: From your knee?
Me: Noooooo, from the other ankle.
MT: Baglett, you’re now in ankle and knee rehab.
Me: Rehab’s for quitters.
MT: Baglett if you don’t look after yourself, you’re going to suffer from arthritis.
Me: Siss.
MT: Ok I just need to do this…
Me: F*ck! Touch me again and I’ll report you.
MT: (Now sighing and clearly no longer enjoying me) Go home, take those ridiculous heels off…
ME: You’re ridiculous.
Mt: ...and do your exercises.
Me: Fine. But don’t think I’m wearing this brace on the dancefloor.
MT: There will be no dancefloor...
ME: What?!
MT: Out.

Physio’s are so grumpy these days.