An ass like a ten-year old boy's

In the 80s and early 90s, as a boy, it was important to remember quotes from films. It started off with Arnie films, Aliens that kind of thing, but eventually it moved on to any film. There was some pride in being able to conjure up a relevant quote that a muscle bound ‘actor’ had once uttered, and inject it into pub time conversation. If possible, while drinking 5 pints in under twenty minutes without urinating and or vomiting, depending on the particular rules you believed in. Which is why I remember a certain quote “she had an ass like a ten-year old boys”, and actually found myself thinking it, if not saying it, this morning.

But it was my ass that was like a ten-year old boys, and for all the wrong reasons. After trying to run again, with hamstrings which feel like someone has removed a section from them, and is holding the tattered threads together with a g-clamp, I am once more in agony. I used to be able to touch my toes with my legs straight, and not just in the showers of the YMCA. This morning I was lucky to be able to bend down so as to be able to touch my knees. Excrutiating pain was eminating from my butt when I reached any further. I at once attributed this to the mysterious hamstring clamper, who has obviously visited in the night.

Not content to cut sections from my hamstrings, this evil-doer has obviously gone one step further. This time, he’s cut off all of the muscles that make up my glutimus maximus, and replaced them with a much smaller set from a ten-year old boy, making it impossible to bend or stretch my legs. I managed to limp about 3km today – a long way off the total 10km which is waiting for me in just over three days time. Bugger.

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