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Stevo985

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hwahaha nah I'm only 27

got back from the physioterrorists earlier today after nearly an hour of excrutiating agony only for them to say ''oh well the physio is not working for you, I'll refer you back to your GP'' I asked them what would happen from there and she said ''he'll probably refer you to a specialist and then you will probably be sent for more physio''

**** great, it aint working so we are going to send you in another big **** circle and we will see you in 6 months time

cheers

anyway, to cheer me up I've stuck on some good old fashioned country music and cracked open a bottle of wine, probably end up twisted tonight cuz I've got a fridge full of beer as well

**********

had a few glasses of wine quite enjoyed them, cant be arsed to get twisted or to drink any more so its gunna be a nice chilled out night

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Certain steroids that were misdiagnosed a decade or so ago are known to cause disintegration of bones particularly the hip area.

Maybe that's your problem.

Nah, although I did have one steroid injection. I was misdiagnosed as a pulled hamstring and then told there was nothing wrong and it was all in my mind. A year later and they finally x-rayed me to discover I'd fractured my ischial tuberosity.

Only last year I had it operated on, privately. I'm still recovering. Had a fantastic physio who got me walking again, and now I'm about to start with a personal trainer to get me fit.

It's been a long road!

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Went for a hilly run (comparatively speaking, it is all hills here, but this hill was significantly more of a hill) and after the initial enthusiasm, I was struggling. Then a lion's roar emanated from the Zoo and I was full of life again, and bombed away along the terrain. It seems nothing pumps you up quite like the age old prospect of getting mauled by a beast. I've since decided (while eating a lovely bowl of tomato&basil soup) there should be an app one could download that plays various life-threatening incidents in your ear to spur you own when ever you feel on the wane, foremost amongst which would be the deathly silence that descends in a West Belfast pub when one utters the words 'Rory McIlroy should play for Great Britain'.

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Went for a hilly run (comparatively speaking, it is all hills here, but this hill was significantly more of a hill) and after the initial enthusiasm, I was struggling. Then a lion's roar emanated from the Zoo and I was full of life again, and bombed away along the terrain. It seems nothing pumps you up quite like the age old prospect of getting mauled by a beast. I've since decided (while eating a lovely bowl of tomato&basil soup) there should be an app one could download that plays various life-threatening incidents in your ear to spur you own when ever you feel on the wane, foremost amongst which would be the deathly silence that descends in a West Belfast pub when one utters the words 'Rory McIlroy should play for Great Britain'.
Somewhere in the running thread is my tip - find yourself running just behind Nell McAndrew. Worked for me. :D
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