I had noticed something was wrong with my leg when I was putting my luggage upstairs in the hotel last night when my left thigh wouldn’t support much weight. It was feeling beyond the normal tiredness I might expect from the long steep hill I had just dragged my buggy over, but it was only the next morning that I realised something was definitely wrong. It was agony to run after the first few miles. I must have pulled a quad muscle or something similar, so I was forced into a limping / shuffling / hobbling gait to make any progress; and that merely reduced rather than removed the pain. It was a shame as the morning was quite wonderful, like springtime in Northern California. It was warm, green and the kookaburras were laughing all around this time probably at me.
Eventually I made it to the town of Melrose and had a nice coffee and muffin at the cute cafe there, again reminiscent of the Californian wine country, and I was most sorry to have to leave. I was aiming for 41 miles that day to break 250 for the week but it didn’t happen. With just the news feed of the Big Fight to keep me distracted I surrendered an hour before sunset in the town of Wirrabara. The hotel was in the pub and it was nice, if old school. I was told the pub was shutting at 6 so I got one cheeky beer as the sun set and then went to get food. The town was utterly deserted, and that included the hotel when I went back. I’ve never stayed in a hotel where I was the only person in the whole building, including staff! Strange! Luckily I dug some food out of my bag and went to bed. After 240 miles this week, and 10 straight days totaling 365 miles / 580km I think a day of rest to recover is on the cards.