Les

I'd better come straight out with it. I feel a bit of a fool - and certainly something of a fraud. I'm still hobbling around in a lot of pain but it's turned out that my toe isn't broken. I'd merely dislocated it and severely smushed it! Going to the NHS web site the suggestion was that you didn't need to go to A&E because they would only do what I did anyway - unless the toe was obviously misshapen. I guess after tens of thousands of miles of running my toes are so misshapen anyway that it wasn't obvious to me that when I'd corrected the weird angle it was sticking out at the toe was still quite deformed. It transpired that my DIY manipulation hadn't seated the toe correctly.

At the behest of my sensible colleagues at work I took myself off to Wharfedale Hospital this morning (the GP surgery pretty much refusing to see me) where this was revealed by an X-Ray, which also didn't show any sign of a fracture. I was euphoric. I confirmed with the nurse that this was good news. "Yes and no," she responded. She explained that she had to fix the dislocation, which would not be easy since some 48 hours had passed since the incident. She suggested I have some Entonox (essentially a mixture of oxygen and laughing gas) to help cope with the inevitable pain. "Bring it on," I say. It took quite a bit of pulling and pushing but she managed to get the toe back where it belongs and I could then see the difference because it looked almost normal - apart from the purple bruising and the swelling. And I was enjoying the happy gas so much that I don't really remember feeling any pain at all. That seems like a much more convenient way of getting merry than drinking pints and pints of beer, with no hangover either. I asked if I could buy a cylinder over the internet but she didn't respond. I'm sure you can if you go to the right place.

Another X-Ray revealed that all was good and I was cleared to go. I think the trauma of all this has actually made the swelling worse, but I'm getting around a bit more easily because I now don't feel the need to protect it so much. And I actually find a little bit of pain (the right kind of pain) almost pleasant. I've always found it hard not to resist squeezing bruises. Is that weird? Our pleasure and pain neurosystems are very closely correlated. I suppose my enjoyment of a modicum of pain sensation might explain why I've always been drawn to endurance sports like running and cycling. Does that make sense?

This shot today is completely incidental to these events. I popped into the market at Otley after I left the hospital, as I'd never had my camera out in Otley before. I immediately found eye contact with Les here and we had a lovely chat. After being quite withdrawn for the last two days I found myself feeling very sociable. Perhaps that's what I'm representing here.

As I finish writing this at 9pm I realise how quickly the nights are drawing in right now, a full month after the longest day. That was what upset me the most, thinking that I was going to miss out on the light evenings after work. That bit of freedom is so important to me. It's still going to take a little while for the swelling and bruising to subside but when it does I'm determined now not to squander any good weather after work. It's too precious.