Old Crocks Club
June 4, 2012, 3:10 pm
Filed under: running | Tags: , , ,

First rule is Don’t Talk about Old Crocks Club!
Since high hamstring tendinopathy (amongst other things) brought my running to a halt, I’ve become aware of a covert group at my work. Each member has a chiropractor or an osteopath or physio whose fancy holidays they are financing. They have a knee or a back or an ankle or a shoulder, but they share a detailed knowledge of the actions and side-effects of every NSAID and know at least as much as their medical professionals about their own particular injury. There are no formal gatherings of the club, but two members meeting at the coffee machine will trade knowledge of supplements (‘Have you tried Devil’s Claw?’), tales of how little their GP cares and a recommendation for swimming, pilates or yoga.

Old Crocs

Without ever asking, I seem to have joined the club though I am a lightweight compared to the hard-core members.

Second rule is Don’t Talk about Old Crocks club!
There’s no whining, no complaining. In fact this group seems to have a propensity to laugh at themselves more than most. You’re more likely to hear ‘What on earth have you done to yourself now?’ than ‘Oh poor you, that’s too bad’.

Old crocks

So the old crocks are a lovely bunch of people; jolly and smiling in the face of adversity … but I’m moving on.

The hamstring tendons seem mended. My posture isn’t perfect but I look at lot less like a dried-up spider than I did and I’ve been enjoying walking in the Pentlands at the weekends to try and rebuild some muscle.

A month ago I started swimming lessons. My physio has been suggesting it for ages, but I protested that I wasn’t comfortable in water and that I could just about get from one end of the pool to the other with a ‘granny’ breast-stroke. But she nagged. Now when I said ‘uncomfortable’ I actually meant shit-scared, but I’ve been getting one to one sessions with the ever-patient and good-humoured Neil and last week I actually enjoyed it.

So, Tuesday was a good day. I’d cycled to work for the first time in months, I had my swimming session at lunchtime and while my legs were tired on the way home, they weren’t sore. Unfortunately, I had a close encounter with a wheelie bin about half a mile from home – I caught it with my handlebar when I took a corner wider than I planned – and I inevitably hit the deck, taking my weight on my outstretched arm.

Old crock

Third rule is No-one Leaves Old Crocks club?
So apparently I have a radial head fracture. I’m lucky, because it isn’t immobilised, and while I can neither bend nor straighten my elbow fully, it’s not actually restricting me that much (can’t carry shopping, can’t do ironing, can’t do gardening 🙂 ). What I’m worried about is that it might be some kind of warning -‘It’s your elbow this time, but next time we’ll have your kneecap’. Once an old crock, always an old crock. How did that wheelie bin get into just that position on the footpath?

Old crocs (alligators really)

A footnote : I just want to wish huge mega-congratulations to awesome Debs for the GUCR, a hearty good luck to everyone running the WHW race this year and a swift and complete recovery to everyone whose running is currently limited by illness and injury.