No more injuries, please

When the clock struck midnight at the beginning of this year, I christened this year the year of fitness and exercise. I've always admired those who could go the distance with some form of exercise. Of course, there's a much less glamorous reason too. You know what they said about the negative correlation between age and metabolism? It's all true.

So I picked up Bikram yoga and running. But running doesn't come easily to me. Little did I know that by this time of the year, I would more likely have to call it the year of injuries. The road to fitness has been paved with one injury after another, most of it to do with my legs and feet. Oh, here's another one. I could also call this the year of false starts.

It was made worse when I made the extremely wise decision (note the sarcasm) to up my game last month, going for a run every day. Only to land myself the wonderful affliction called shin splints. And, my god, they hurt! At one time, I couldn't even lift each foot off the ground high enough to make it into a jog.

Plenty of late-night research, two weeks of rest, half an hour at the shoe store and a minute on the treadmill to check my running gait later, I decided to give it another go a few days back. It was a tentative start and I only clocked a measly distance of 2 kilometres, but it felt good after that. And so I went for another run yesterday, this time stretching it a little to 2.2 kilometres. And the shin splints are back.

Oh boy. So hello trusty ice pack. What's next now?