I was trying to think of something witty for the title of this post, but failed horribly, so I decided to go with a title that got straight to the point.
I knew it was dangerous making a plan. All my best laid plans seems to go a little bit pear shaped. In this case, I wish my toe was more pear shaped than the turgid sausage that it has become.
There have been several incidents now that have given me a little nudge to gently suggest that I'm getting a bit on the ancient side to keep up with my current sporting activities of running, football, squash, and gym.
The squash I have pretty much given up, my hamstrings and knees just don't agree with the rapid acceleration and change of direction required. Even when they were young & youthful they struggled with this feat.
As for football, I've been trying to reduce the quantity of football I play, as a 36 yr old, I realise that in the professional world I am considered scrape heap fodder. However I still try to play when I can.
Last Thursday for instance, was one such occasion, for which now I am wishing I chose not to take part.
7 mins into the game was when it all happened. Sadly the team I play for consists of 5 other 'wrong side of 35' players and so we are not really a team blessed with pace, but we do have a wealth of experience, which is at least worth a psychological 1- nil. This lack of pace usually means we are indeed, one step behind, as all of the teams we play against consist mainly of undergraduate students, still full of pubescent hormones raging inside them and an never diminishing level of energy.
In one instance, I found myself one step behind the youth I was marking, when he decided to have a shot on goal. Ready as ever to give everything for the team, I lunge my leg out to try a push the ball away. Surprisingly for me and I think also for him I managed to make contact with the ball sufficiently to push it away from his rapidly approaching striking leg.
I think you might be starting to get the picture of what happened next.
With the ball being replaced with my meagre size 9 foot, the fore mentioned striking leg continued on its course and almost sent my foot into the top corner of our goal. Fortunately the foot stayed attached to my leg. Unfortunately a surge of pain was emanating from my big toe.
I left the pitch, and sat disgruntled on the side lines knowing my right toe had received some damage, but I couldn't face looking.
When we got back to the changing rooms, I reluctantly took a gander to see what the damage was, and was greeted with the delight below

It doesn't look so bad here, this is 3 days later.
I don't think it's broken, I just think the joint took a severe blow. Suffice to say I can't run on it.
I can walk, which I think is a good sign, and now almost 5 days later the bruising is significantly better.
The training plan though, has been put on the shelf for the moment. Hopefully, a little jog tomorrow will give me some indication of how much rest I need to give it before I can resume.