Monday, January 3, 2011

Mayday!! Yet, somehow, peace!

So it's a good thing I already had an appointment scheduled at Stretch To Win this week, because now I've injured myself properly for it.  I was going to just work through a minor lingering calf issue before PF Chang's, but when I stepped out tonight to run, said calf suddenly seized.  (I should have said "said soleus suddenly seized", shouldn't I? Then I would get the Alliteration Crown of Awesomeness.)  Yeah, and I was being all savvy, doing a million (ok 40) jumping jacks in the living room to warm up, to correct my error on the first!  Sure, sure, everything was fine for all that, but the minute I launched (ok stepped mildly) off the curb, BAM! No soup for me!

Well, there wouldn't have been any soup if I were less committed to (ok hell-bent on) doing this Janathon thing.  Plus, (she rationalized) I think I'd like to move to trail running at some point, and if I have some kind of disaster out there, I'd have to cope.  (Never mind that I was inches from my front door.  In my mind I was miles out in frozen tundra.)  So I stretched and tested and limped and stretched and rattled and swore and set off anyway, in a gait probably much akin to a seventy-year-old hobbit's, with a nail in his toe.  Thankfully it seemed to be a good move, because it did loosen up quite a bit and I managed about 3/4 mile before my left side started feeling achy, from bearing the brunt of all the hobbit-limping.  Reeeeaallly not wanting to invite any other injury or imbalance before PFC, so I (ok did my last quarter mile and) headed inside at that point.  I hadn't planned on going any farther today anyway, as I'm trying to alternate longer days with shorter ones so I don't burn myself out too early in the month or before the race; but even with that snafu I found myself going "awwww, I could totally keep going."  And I totally wanted to; the wind was cold, I was warm, everything was working and the music was good, my lungs weren't burning...and even though I kept a pretty Eh Not Bad pace, I wasn't at all tired at the end of a mile.

Maybe you have to understand how sick I was and for how long to feel how I feel about that.

I mean, I've run four half marathons thus far and god knows how many miles training for them, but it never gets old, that sudden recognition that, "hey, I can breathe.  -!"  And after it, I never go "well, of course you can breathe, it's been years and all and you ran 6 miles yesterday duh-mmy..."  Not even close.

I always think "Yeah.  That is Awesome...Let's do it again!...And again!...Another!...".
I suppose that's what yoga wants to teach you, but I never found it there.  Though, I love yoga too; I just don't Need my breath in yoga.  I want it, I like it, I look for it, but in running I Need my breath.  And, finally, it's there!  That just never gets old, I tell ya.  I guess that's gratitude for you- you can't force it.

...not like you can force an errant gastroc into submission!  Heal, I command you (ok really I cajole stretch ice knead pray and beg but damn you), heal!! ;)

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