My 3 miler on Friday was absolute rubbish. I felt rubbish...again... and when I looked to check how many miles I'd done... the bloody Nike+Ipod thingy hadn't turned itself on. What a pain.
I was all geared up, today, to run my 8 miles. I was feeling quite nervous. And then disaster. Real disaster.
I got a phone call from my Man to say that his father had had a fall. He was at football watching our eldest and had missed his footing, slipped and fallen onto some concrete. My Man ran over to his prostrate body fearing the worst. He has cut his forehead very badly - about 5 inches of jagged, deep cut. They had to do a blue light run in the ambulance. My Man sounded very shaken when I spoke to him. Horrendous.
My FIL is back home now and my Man is staying the night with him to make sure he's ok. How wonderful the NHS is to send an 80 year old man home like that. They said he needed 24 hour care and then discharged him. Thank Goodness for my Man.
And, what's more, my Man came home to collect some things and said that he'd been worried that I'd not been able to do my 8 miles. How sweet is that ?? I don't think I deserve someone so lovely.