6:15am. 77°F and 89% relative humidity. I walk out the door and air is thick and soupy. (Hmmmm. Maybe this sauna will accelerate the decomposition of the Oreo cookie intake yesterday. Count: 16. Yep. Strapped on the feedbag and ravenously wolfed ‘em down. But lets be balanced here. This was spread over lunch and dinner – not so bad when looking at it this way – a modest amount actually. I don’t think this even adds up to a full row.)
0.5 miles: I feel a pinch in my right knee. The pinch advances to bite. I grimace. (D*mn weekend warrior. I slow the pace but don’t stop. “Run through it.” I recall the 2007 NY Times article – ‘We want you to keep moving…injured tissue heals quicker if it’s under stress…moderate exercise aids the healing.’ 5 year old article and its stuck with me.)
1 mile: It’s not going away. Limp-running now. Slow pace further. (So, where’s the d*mn moderate exercise will heal part. Healing can show up anytime now. I’m almost walking know. Sweat is raining down…and tastes a bit creamy. (Oreos?) You would think this humidity would be lubing my knee. Odd, my right shoulder is stiff now. Oh, yea. Re-started my push-up routine yesterday. Man, my entire carriage is coming apart! Another 1/2 mile and we’ll need to call 911. As long as I don’t keel over into all of this Goose dung and avoid rolling into the cove…I should be ok.)
2 miles: I get back on highway. Flat surface seems to be aiding recovery. (OK. This feels a bit better. Feel like Homer, moving sooooo slow. Hope no one is watching.)
3 miles: I reach Stamford Cove Park. Knee seems ok. (I’ve stopped glancing at my Garmin for time checks. This isn’t a good story. Let’s see if we can just get home without a major incident.)
4 miles: Young lady runner passes me. She’s running at comfortable pace. She looks fresh. (This is totally unacceptable. I feel a surge of testosterone. No. Don’t even think about it. Which part of the lunacy continuum are you targeting here. Let her go. High School was many (many) years ago.)
4.5 miles: Knee seems to be tender but manageable. I accelerate my pace. And pass her. That’ll teach her to mess with me. (It’s clear that these people have NO idea that I was a Division I scholarship athlete in my day.)
5 miles: I’m running out of steam. I can hear the pitter-patter of little feet behind me. She passes me. (OMG. D*mn it. Distress! Distress! Did I see her smirk at me?)
5.5 miles: She’s gone. I stop. This is over. (It wasn’t a fair match with my right jet sputtering. It was an off day for me. Next time…)
Time Check: 2.67 minutes worse than last Sunday. Time for an ice pack. And a very long nap.
NY York Times Articles: When It’s O.K. to Run Hurt & To Stretch or Not to Stretch? The Answer Is Elastic. Image Source: Principals Page
- Running…with red eyes.
- It’s all coming my way…
- Running, around in my head…
- Lift your head up…
- Relaxing Sunday Run…
- Running Hard To Stay In Place…
- Living in Two Different Worlds. But operating in one mind.