Another day, another run, another calf that went ING! You bloody idiot.

And so I’ve been enjoying the past three days doing some hardcore serious running on the indoor treadmill. It’s the coolest place to run during these balmy days, with the whole gym floor being air-conditioned to absolutely lush proportions.

I also like the challenge of a treadmill. I can pre-programme it to do the exact same workout that I was doing back in my Brixton Rec days in 1995.

Still got it, Comrades, still got it.

Except I haven’t. I was doing all fine for the first 10 minutes at a gradient of 5% and an average speed of 10 km/h. The next stage is always the tricky one. I decrease the gradient to 3% but increase this pace to 13 km/h.

Oh that doesn’t feel too good. Hang on that feels most uncomfortable. Just keep on grinning Jase, you’ll get through this.

PING!

Like a fool I pressed on for the final 2 km to complete the OCD-pleasing 15-minute time trial duration. I did offer a few concessions by not increasing the pace further, as is the case with my old Brixton Rec running schedule.

The only saving grace this time is that it’s my right calf and not my left. It was my left that did me for around nine months with no running action.

The slight irritation I’m now feeling on my right is nowhere near as painful as what went previously on the opposite leg.

My lesson learnt from the last nine months or so is just not to do anything until it’s fully healed. ParkRun is in my favour. Sadly it’s been cancelled tomorrow in Sunny Colch through a lack of volunteers. That seems like a first.

There’s the nonsense of the live music events in the park for the next fortnight, which keeps ParkRun away. I’m optimistic that a three-week running break might be sufficient to sort out this latest ping incident.

Also in my favour is that I’m back in the pool next week. My black ink should have healed after a month since my last tattoo session. I’m also back in the saddle and on the roadie, so there’s plenty of fitness options.

I’m quite looking forward to having an excuse not to go out pounding the mean streets of CO7.

Another start to the week, another run around the Estuary Wilds. Time was a little tight as ever. Never underestimate the complete faff it takes me to actually get my arse out of the front door.

I quite like these tight deadlines. I had precisely 50 minutes for the 10 km circuit ahead of the next work shift. This was the motivation I needed to pick up pace compared to recent runs.

It was a little fresher out there this morning. I noticed a difference straight away as soon as I hit the Quayside. Once again it was absolutely deserted around there shortly after 8 am.

I headed out along the sea wall. I had to play a game of dodge the cow pats. It looks like someone has had fun overnight littering the path heading down to Whitehouse Beach.

The tide was half in, half out. It looked a little pathetic to be honest. I’ve had deeper baths.

This didn’t stop the stench of seaweed as I approached the Creek. It was actually rather invigorating and helped me to power on with an increased pace.

The back half of the run was rather uneventful. The roads were relatively quiet with the schools closed.

I thought I could manage the 10 km route but fell a little short with my pace. I cut off the final 1 km in order to be at my work desk bang on time.

To Sunny Colch! …early on Saturday morning. It was a return to ParkRun for the first time in a couple of months. Just as my pesky calf injury had actually managed to heal, I then had another four weeks of an enforced layoff with black ink recovery.

Oh woe is me, etc.

The ride in was an absolute breeze. It was good to see that work has started along East Hill with the new cycle lanes. These are long overdue, and will make entry into Britain’s Oldest Recorded Town finally fitting for the 21st century.

I reached Castle Park within good time. Already the fourth - or is it the fifth - heat wave of the summer had started to kick in. The scent from the civic rosebeds was quite overpowering.

It was a decent turnout for ParkRun, although not an exceptionally busy one. This didn’t stop me getting boxed in at the start. I knew something was up when a couple of not that athletic female runners positioned themselves at the very, very start of the pack.

As ever my aim was just to get round the circuit. I’ve been putting in the km’s a fair bit this week but I’m still a long, long way off my peak fitness.

The first thing to go was my arms. This is always a weird one. Whenever I’m really pushing myself running then I feel my arms are incredibly weak. I have no idea what’s going off there.

I started off fairly quick but then slowed down considerably. It was annoying to see a couple of geezers effortlessly skip past me whilst engaged in what seemed like a friendly Saturday morning social conversation.

The final bastard hills for the third circuit of the park pretty much did me in. I managed a lame sprint finish although my final time of almost bang on 24 minutes was nothing to shout home about.

Another day, another run. I felt pretty stiff before I set out on the Estuary Wilds 10km route. A lot of this was self-inflicted. I don’t think that the six pints the night before at the Oval did much to improve my fitness and well-being.

Hey hoe. I pressed on. The plan was to take it easy and just try and get around the circuit. It would be a bonus if I could shave any time off the 10km run on the exact same route I did a couple of days ago.

The temperature was certainly a lot fresher for running. There were also fewer people out along by the sea wall. I did spot R, who is something of a very friendly face. She’s a very keen birdwatcher and always takes the time to speak to people along the route.

In the AirPods was the latest Forest Focus with Darren Fletcher as the guest. I always love hearing his views on all things Forest. He clearly has the insider knowledge and isn’t afraid to divulge what he knows.

The two gates along the estuary wall were navigated with ease. One of these was very kindly opened for me by a walker who saw I was approaching at pace.

A quick look to my right along the estuary mud, and there was a bloody great big flock of birds who were soaking up the morning sun. I’ve no idea what they were. They were probably pigeons.

A little further down towards Alresford Creek, the path is now so overgrown it’s becoming difficult to run through without getting scratched. I slowed down and did a bit of a delicate manoeuvre around the bushes.

Back at base and Strava AI told me that I had tackled my first run in weeks. Strava AI was lying. I did the same bloody route only two days ago. I was also almost three minutes quicker compared to the previous effort. Cheers for nothing Strava AI.

I returned to running for the first time in two weeks on Tuesday lunchtime. It’s precisely a fortnight ago since my last Black Ink session. It’s around 95% healed, which I would say is good enough to get back out pounding those mean streets of C07.

I say mean streets, what I mean, of course, is the Estuary Wilds route. It involves a lovely scenic stretch along by the river down towards the Creek and then back up through Alresford whilst you play Frogger along the main road, running back all the way back towards Weird Wiv.

It has the simplicity of being exactly 10 km door-to-door. I’ve even been known to plod along two or three extra houses down just to achieve that OCD-pleasing, even rounded figure.

Work shit meant that my run couldn’t take place until midday. Talk about mad dogs, etc. Blimey it was bloody hot out there.

I was a little sheepish as to how my long-standing cough injury might hold up. I needn’t have worried. It was an absolute breeze, even if the weather wasn’t.

I did, however, have a slight foot pain on the other side. I am, if nothing else, the Dot Cotton of Weird Wiv.

I thought I was the only lone nutter doing the midday running thing during a heatwave, but nope - out along those balmy riverbanks was some other bloke.

He was topless, carrying his t-shirt. That’s a look I could never pull off - nor one I would want to either. I would rather sweat it out than go strutting and poncing around bare-chested.

A little further down the estuary and there was a couple of young fishermen. They were in a spot I’ve never seen anyone casting their big long rods before.

I reached the Creek and took the sharpish turn towards Alresford. I did struggle up the hills.

I did think of cutting short the route by a kilometre or so when the turn off of an opportunity presented itself. But nope, I am a stickler and was determined to get in my 10 km OCD exercise for the day.

He’s back on it. Yeah.

A return to Park Run on Saturday morning. A pesky injury has kept me away from the unforgiving hills of Castle Park in Sunny Colch for over six months. I’ve found this really frustrating. ParkRun on a Saturday morning is what anchors your weekend. It sets you up for what is to come.

I arrived relatively early for me as I cycled my way over to CO1. Relatively early for me is any time between 8:58 and 8:59 ahead of Park Run getting going at 9:00 prompt.

Castle Park looked stunning in the sun. Some of the prim and proper civic flower beds are strangely empty this year. No worries. The rest of the park looked spectacular.

I heard the buzz of pre-ParkRun as I approached the bandstand. Before you turn the corner you can hear the excitement and mutterings building up. It’s similar to the start of play for a Test match.

A friendly greeting came from the stewards. I felt fighting fit. Gosh I’ve missed this.

The numbers were a little down when compared to the winter months. One minute or so into the race that’s not a race and it became clear to me: Christ, the Sunny Colch heat was punishing.

I always get a little confused with the course. I never know if it’s twice or three times around the mill circuit. Your mind can do strange things whilst you are running your arse off. Basic memory seems to evaporate from me.

A young kid pretty much tracked me around the entire 5 km course. We played a friendly game of cat and mouse as I pressed on ahead of him down the slopes, whilst he overtook me on the climbs.

The final stretched-out climb heading back towards the castle was a little too much for me. I tried to catch his tail. I failed. Mr. Chunder came close to making a Saturday morning appearance. Oh dear.

So that’s a return to ParkRun ticked off. The injury held up well. Like a fool I’m now going to be away for another couple of months with self-imposed ink action on my legs.

Live to run, run to live. Or something.

I had a major fashion faux pas whilst out for a run this morning. Actually, the major fashion faux pas took place in the Lidl middle aisle yesterday afternoon. That’s where most of my fashion faux pas have tended to have occurred over recent years.

The Lidl middle aisle is ace for sporting goods. Why pay over the odds for running tops and shorts that you’re only going to sweat your arse off whilst wearing? Simply buy at Lidl, sweat your arse off for a year or so, and then buy and replace. Talk about fast fashion, etc.

And so on Thursday I clocked in the cheapo aisle some UV tops. Great, I thought. These are just what I need to keep the pesky sun rays off my lovely ink sleeves. Even better when the price said two for £6.

I got to the self-checkout. Beep. Beep. That’ll be £12 please. WTF? Always read the small print, always read the correct pricing labels, even in the Lidl cheapo aisle, Jase.

Oh well. All is not lost. I got home and surveyed my recent purchase. Oh Gawd. It turns out that they are actually more aquatic wear rather than outdoor physical running wear.

They look as though they’re designed for an afternoon of splashing around on Clacton Beach rather than pounding the mean streets of C07.

No worries, I thought. As long as that magical UV is working its wonders, I could probably still get away with these as running tops.

Friday morning came and the grand road testing of my aquatic tops that are not really aquatic tops arrived. Christ, they stank. I’m not sure what’s been used in the material to keep them waterproof but it didn’t half pen and ink.

They were bloody tight as well, but I pressed on. Around one minute into the run I was absolutely soaking wet. I was looking a right dick.

At least the aquatic kind of lives up to the tagline; although they didn’t keep the water out, they certainly kept the water within.

Hey hoe. We live and learn, even in the Lidl cheapo aisle. I’ve had the brainwave of reverting back to what these are supposed to be used for. I go rowing; I go kayaking. Occasionally I even go paddle boarding. Maybe a Lidl cheapo aisle aquatic top is labelled for what its intended purpose is.

A return to the 10 km estuary running route on Thursday morning. Woh, I have bloody missed this. At a push it’s my fave running route - and yep that even trumps the well-trodden and well-tested King of Clapham Common.

My calf injury has kept me away from the 10 km since last September. I managed a 9 km route around the University at the weekend. What’s another extra 1 km? Surely I can manage this?

The heat was already building by the time of my mid-morning run. This led to an interesting aroma down by the estuary, as the baking mud was starting to evaporate off all the other shit that it collects.

I passed the army of nursery pram pushers by the sailing club. The girls do a great effort in getting their little ankle biters out and about. It looks bloody hard work as they double up with pairs and often triplets of prams.

The tide was low. Parts of the trail were overgrown. I wanted to take it easy so as not to have any scratchings on my legs ahead of another heavy ink session, which is imminent.

I reached the Creek. The field had a dozen or so sleeping cows. It looked quite the life.

I took it easy on the back leg of the route towards Alresford. 10 km was crossed off in what was a semi-decent time.

I’m back!

A big old run to start Sunday morning. There were blue skies up above and I had miles in my legs, or make that kms in my legs. I’m a metric continental type of guy.

I did look an absolute running dick though. Not only did I have the compression long socks on, I also had my stupid sweatband. As ever I feel the need to explain with the disclaimer that this is there for practical purposes and not vanity. It keeps the AirPods in place and acts as a useful covering strap for my oversized ears.

Like a fool I chose to head out on the same route where I first experienced the injury that has taken me the longest ever to recover from. It’s not the most adventurous route but it is relatively quiet and is on flat pavement. I am no fan of cross country running.

The route involves heading through the town towards the University and then down towards The Hythe for a quick turn around. Then we do it all again for the reverse route.

Trying to distract me from being a hypochondriac with more injury concerns was the ever excellent KLate Junction in my AirPods. It’s such a magical listening especially first thing in the morning. I do love the paradox of Late Junction in the morning.

On the return leg for the University a game of cricket was already starting. It wasn’t even 8:00 a.m. yet. SHOUT OUT to the committed two teams who were pitching up in all white.

This was very much a run all about distance rather than pace. I was reminded of this closer to home when the renowned Wivenhoe Flyer sped past me without blinking.

Run to live, live to run.

I woke up early on Saturday morning, fighting fit and all set for a return to ParkRun. I was getting my arse in gear and had the last-minute thought of: Hey! Let’s check the Colchester ParkRun Facebook page to make sure everything is tickety-boo.

Arse, Sunny Colch ParkRun is not taking place this morning. There’s the annual nonsense of people firing off big cannons in celebration of some old duffer. Not my King, etc. It’s not even his proper birthday. Cheers, Charlie.

It felt like the perfect early June morning outside. There is no such thing as a perfect early June morning these days. I’ve got it lodged in my memory from some long-distant late 70s past of how a June morning should feel: fresh but bright with blue skies. Betcha it pisses it down by midday.

The mean streets of CO7 were relatively quiet. I did clock Mr B, who was also out pounding the pavements. I think he was on route to the allotment. Good effort fella.

I felt as though I had the legs and the fitness to press on a little further than the usual 5 km recovery route. I really want to get back into the swing of running 10 km all the way around the estuary circuit, but I live in fear of another calf ping! moment. Instead I tagged on an extra couple of km or so. Build it up slowly, Jase.

And so a decent run. I really wish I could have completed a ParkRun once again. In the end I went a little more than the ParkRun 5 km, clocking in 6.9 km at under 5 min/km. Happy with that.

Run to live, live to run.