Asking Multiple Miggs

It was brought to my attention that everyone else's mind isn't as decadent as my own and some of what's posted here is a complete mystery to most right-minded individuals.

The example that was used to prove this was the title of my blog post dated 14 September entitled 'Seagulling. Quite literally.' Mrs Mac admitted to being confused by my reference to sea gulls when the post concerned a visit to see the gannets that live upon Bass Rock.

Dear Reader......if you understood the reference please either bugger off elsewhere and read about split times, nutrition, the latest vibram soles and all that other shite, or indulge me.

If you didn't understand it either stand by to have your mind soiled or bugger off elsewhere and read about split times, nutrition, the latest vibram soles and all that other shite.

You'll remember in the Seagulling blog post my telling of the young lady that was in our boat with her boyfriend, right? You'll also remember me explaining how a deposit of bird shit descended from the sky and landed on the woman's face, right?

Hold that thought.

Now let me take you back to the last time you saw the film Silence of the Lambs.

Remember the bit where Clarice Starling enters the subterranean cells that house Hannibal Lecter and a collection of other criminally insane loon-balls? Remember the bit where Multiple Miggs flings a deposit of ejaculate through the bars of his cell and it lands on the unsuspecting Starling's face?

That's Seagulling.

Anyway, I'm now going to mention another poisonous, filthy word: Running. Or a lack of it.

As I've mentioned elsewhere, I've been suffering a medical condition that has rendered every running session over ten miles a complete disaster for the best part of nine months.

But enough of my erectile disfunction (I'll get that in before Richard Cronin does). This was about the problem I've had with my sciatic nerve.

I attended a referral at the Medwyn back pain clinic this week where I had an appointment with an orthopaedic specialist. The Medwyn back pain clinic is housed within one of those big, modern NHS establishments that do pretty much everything except hospitalise people. And the specialist was a middle aged fit burd with headmistress spectacles and a sharp skirt suit. In an under-the-counter video she would have been the archetypal MILF and the referral would have been about two minutes of chit chat before descending into a choreographed gymnastics session.

But what really happened was a lot of poking, squeezing, bending over and hitting with one of those little hammers.............and yes I do realise that I may have just described a choreographed gymnastics session in one of those under the counter videos.

So what of the Specialist MILF's opinion regarding my running future?

It went like this:

'Your ultra running days are over, just accept it.'

I left the medical centre feeling pretty glum. I drove from there to Battersea Fire Station to start my shift and considered my options:

1. A return to boxing where running is limited to five or six miles of road work. The pros are that I'll maintain a good level of fitness and get to dance with the Devil again. The cons are that I'll get beaten up every week by younger, quicker hard bastards.

2. A return to gym based weight lifting where running might be limited to a warm up on a treadmill. The pros are that I'll build a stronger body and lose the malnourished, POW-escapee look of the ultra runner. The cons are that I'll have to buy a baseball cap, a shit-load of fake tan and walk about like I'm carrying two rolled up lengths of invisible carpet.

3. Forget any idea of fitness training at all and join the legions of fat couch potatoes that watch Jezza Kyle all day. The pros are that I'll save a fortune in gym fees and I might get offered a spot on Jezza's show. The cons are that I'll end up stinking of body odour and get bed sores.

4. Dismiss the Specialist MILF's advice as her simply ticking a 'problem solved' box by the most expeditious route and carry on regardless. The pros are that it might work and I'll return to running when the problem solves itself. The cons are that it might not and I'll maintain a malnourished, POW-escapee look while never actually achieving anything but a DNF.

Decisions, decisions.

I wonder what Multiple Miggs would do?