Why do I require my foot’s permission to take simple exercise?

Up, startlingly, just before six. Sit, breakfast, then after H goes to work, I go for a run, which my foot appears to be allowing me to do today. Why do I require my foot’s permission to take simple exercise? Good question.

Home, shower. Don’t get the things done that I thought I would today, but I do reconnect with a number of tunes that I may have to play in the near future, and work out how to play the solo from the version of River Rise on Another Time in OST (as it was played on an NST electric guitar), and practise it lots.
Looking at reviews of moderately expensive gadgetry on the internet. And buy tickets to see Adrian Belew play on my birthday. He doesn’t know it’s my birthday, I mean that wasn’t his motivation for playing that day. Just a happy coincidence.
In the evening watch the VAC open mic, which it appears I wouldn’t have got to anyway, on account of the tube strike.
It appears someone has put footage of me on YouTube. I’m slightly appalled, but generally am when I see images of myself. I can see why that chap in the pub a couple of weeks ago suggested I take my jacket off when I play, as I look like an overweight hunchback with slightly random dress sense.
I put the video on the jp.com site anyway, because…
I don’t know why. I just do.