I'm beginning to get the familiar, almost comforting, sense of loathing normally reserved for my own shortcomings or particularly inept colleagues.

This time, it's the former that's the subject of my ire.

After injuring myself before London, I swore I'd make sure I didn't go through that again, so have spent most of the rest of the year trying to strengthen the knee with physio, exercises, and low impact things like cycling.

I started proper training good and early thanks to Sally so there was lots of time to build up to avoid too much pressure on it, and all seemed well.

But then, last week, the unwelcome niggle crept back into my life like an acquaintance from school you never really got on with, and creeped you out a bit when they kept appearing uninvited wherever you went.

So it's a few days rest, ice, knee strap back on and some mashing with a tennis ball to try to get this infernal limb into some sort of workable state.

There's still the thick end of 18 weeks to go (just 124 short days) so I'm hoping that this is just 2009 giving me one last kick before it get's filed into the 'crappy years I need to forget'.

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