And on the thirteenth it will be a month since my fall. I still have not run, which is poor. The knee is painful, stiff and swells. My stigmata, the wounds on the palms of my hands, are still there, and make me wonder if I should start a new religion.
Meanwhile I watch these extraordinary Olympics. I realise that the thing my running lacks is a gesture, a pose, to serve as my trademark. Usain has his bolt, Mo Farah his mo-bot. What should mine be? I have time to find the answer. My next race is the Will Page 10k in Newick at the bank holiday weekend. I shall start running again in time to perform.
