WHEN INJURY STRIKES
The usually fighting fit Brunty has a swim injury. Good job he’s not competing at the World Masters Swimming Champs soon…
“My stiff chickens have come home to rigidly roost”
Injured! I’m sorry to bring you down with the ‘I’ word right at the end of the magazine when you’re at your most enthusiastic, but I’m injured. And in the proper tradition of age-group triathlon, it’s my duty to obsessively go on about it.
In the 15 years I’ve been doing tri, I’ve been lucky to have had very few injuries, save for a bit of hamstring gyp and the obligatory bout of plantar fasciitis that all triathletes must endure. I’ve had one or two ‘impact’ injuries, such as a fractured elbow, broken arm, three broken toes, two broken fingers, 15 stitches in my hand and a patch of skin near my chuff that was rubbed off when I went commando under a wetsuit, but we’ll call them ‘mishaps’.
The fact that I’ve had so few injuries is a feat made even more remarkable when you consider that I’ve observed an almost religious adherence to not stretching. Upon taking up tri I quickly realised that there was plenty enough pain associated with training without having to prolong the agony by stretching the bits that I’ve just used when I could be in the shower/ the pub/my bed. And since then I’ve stuck tenaciously to this policy, even if it has left me with the range of movement of a garden fence, scar tissue that’s lasted longer than most celebrity marriages, and a walk so inflexible that my family make me feel like a Tour de France cyclist by clapping as I struggle up the stairs to bed.
Now though, my stiff chickens have come home to rigidly roost and I’ve finally acquired a painful and undoubtedly preventable injury. The injury in question is in my rotator cuff, a group of muscles and tendons around the shoulder joint which are uncommonly useful when it comes to swimming, something I’ve been doing a lot of thanks to an imminent appearance at the World Masters Swimming Champs in Hungary in the 3km open-water race and 800m pool race. So to get me through my forthcoming ordeal, I have the following options:
1 PHYSIO
Over the years I’ve paid various people to massage my limbs, a few of whom even did it for sports- related reasons. Recently a lady called Jess has been inflicting agony on my arm by pulling it in a direction it doesn’t want to go and then rubbing it with something which feels like it was originally developed as a defoliant.
2 ‘ALTERNATIVE’ THERAPY
One of the worst things about being injured is that my friend Neill Morgan, a triathlon Minion, gives me endless homeopathy advice on how to cure my ailments. Neill is a staunch devotee of many alternative therapies but, personally, if I’m in a crash I want to hear sirens rather than wind chimes, so I’m currently hiding from him in case he gives me some kind of herbal tincture.
3 DEEP HEAT
I’m sure the effectiveness of rubbing affected areas with Deep Heat is not that the warmth which radiates into your muscles has repairing qualities, but instead that the burning skin where you’ve just slathered yourself with medicinal napalm immediately takes your mind off any other pain you may be experiencing. Add to that it smells like it can be used to remove graffiti, and is enjoyed by people who actively enjoy nausea.
4 IGNORE IT AND TAKE IBUPROFEN
I’ve largely focussed on this option. I could try some stretching I suppose but I’m in quite enough pain already. PS. Thank you to everyone who voted in the great ‘What Race Should Brunty Do Next Year’ referendum. Your choices were a solo channel swim, the Marathon des Sables, and Lands’ End to John O’Groats on a Brompton dressed in a tweed suit, and the winner was… LEJOG on a Brompton! I look forward to acquiring some mighty rashes on my sensitive areas from my woollen plus-fours – cheers! Second was MdS, third the Channel, so I’ll do them as well, in that order.