To cut a long story short she suggested that I visit Pure Sports Medicine in Threadneedle Street, which is how I found myself togged up in running kit on the Northern Line heading deep into the City. It is a supremely professional set up, though that is only to be expected given the prices they charge.
I was prodded and poked and told that I had effectively been hopping rather than running as one leg could give Daley Thompson a run for his money, while the other would not look out of place on the most slobbish couch potato. Apparently my poor old right leg has been doing all the work, while the left looked on and laughed, which is why my calf gave up the ghost once I started to tax it.
I was given a massage, acupuncture and then my calf was strapped up in some very fetching bright pink tape. I was also given some exercises to do and sent away much poorer but encouraged that I would be able to run the marathon without too much of a problem. Phew. Now I just need to continue being patient, not taxing my calf and wearing heels to take the pressure off the muscle.
Still no running though and I am beginning to get very twitchy without my regular does of endorphins delivered by a few hours out on the road. I am planning to gym it again and do some cross training and help to build up that lazy left leg, so hoping that will put right the chemical imbalance in my brain.
Fingers crossed by this time next week I will be up and running again. I am back on Monday for a check up and more advice on how to get myself buns of steel to help hold up my legs on the marathon, so watch this space.