I thought this was supposed to be fun?

My legs aren't working. Or something.

Just been out an "easy" hour following the Lydiard principle: out for half an hour, turn round and get home in the same time.

Only my legs wouldn't co-operate. They started to seize up with 10 minutes left on the clock.

Of course, this is only my third "proper" run after a five-week lay-off. But even so, I'd expected to be moving like the "old" me by now.

The lay-off started as a scheduled two-week rest and ended up being a month-long round of serial therapy as my body decided to present me with several "matters requiring attention." Like the four-month-old niggling adductor strain. In the middle of my new routine of excrutiating soft-tissue work (thanks, Mark Plaatjes), "magic" accupuncture (thank you Dr. Ma) and Spanish Inquisition-style remedial Pilates (thank you, Richard "Nobody expects..." Rossiter), I sprained my ankle.

You get the picture. I've been worked over by experts. Passed fit to run, I was itching to go, but still a little fragile, maybe. The first run back was bordering on the fine line between epic and disaster.

It didn't help that there was a gale-force headwind both out AND back. It didn't help that it was getting dark and I nearly broke my neck on the loose rocks on the high point of the trail.

Luckily I bumped into a running friend, who was walking. Well, Catriona's excuse was a good one -- six months traveling in India and Tibet and only back a week. I got a bit of a rest talking to her. "Well, don't let us hold you up," she kept saying! Ha! If only she knew!

This afternoon was bad, too. No wind this time and no walky-talky breaks.

On the way back with a couple of miles to go I spotted a woman runner I'd crossed paths with earlier. Her run over, she was leaning on a trailhead fence with one foot up by her ear. "Nice stretch!" I called out. My brain immediately accessed my flexibility files and gave me an instant, unwanted read-out. Hmm. Maybe that's why my legs spasmed about ten seconds later.

I limped on home, muttering and cursing under my breath. Why are women so effortlesly more flexible than men? What have I got to do to get more supple? Surely there's some magic herbal medicine that'll loosen up my poor, rigid fascia? What is going on with my body?

I'd noticed during my off-time that some days I was still waking up aching, even when I hadn't done anything. I'm beginning to think there's something wrong with me. My running buddies are typically unhelpful. The executive summary would be: "It always feels bad starting back after a lay-off." What they are really saying is: "You're not fit, what do you expect?"

Maybe I should slow it down a bit. Accept that I could burn up on re-entry unless I accept I must run slower for a while. But heck, the whole point of this is to feel that flowing, wind-in-your-hair, flies-in-your teeth, effortless speed, isn't it? Oh, sorry, I seem to have got confused with motorbike riding.

And, yes, OK, maybe doing the day before a one-hour Pilates session focused on feet, ankles and legs followed by a two-hour Pekiti Tirsia Kali martial arts class could have had some effect. But what's a boy to do with all this energy when he's not running? I mean, Paula Radcliffe cross-trains like crazy, right?

I expect to be having fun soon. I'll keep you posted.