Monday, March 29, 2010

looking forward

I heard a little radio bit about the 10 miler this morning, and got suddenly depressed. I am NOT okay with not running it. Two years ago, when I was newly pregnant with Sami and just too sick and exhausted to run it, I cheerfully volunteered on race day. But this year, I'm just going to try to pretend that it's not even going on. It's going to be too hot, anyway.

What gets me the most about this is that there's no one good reason why I'm not running. It's death by a thousand cuts. If I hadn't had the first case of strep, or the second. If I hadn't had the flu on the way back from Vegas. If I hadn't had the hurt toe. If I hadn't pulled my side carrying my luggage through the airport. If my hip hadn't started hurting again. If one of those things, or one of so many other little setbacks hadn't happened, I might be running on Saturday. I wish I could point to one thing and say, this, this is the thing that's keeping me from running. It's none of them, and all of them.

Truthfully, it's crossed my mind more than once to just pick up my packet on Friday and go run. I did 3 miles on Saturday, plus a pretty vigorous athletic conditioning class at the gym that's got to be equivalent to another 3. I feel pretty good right now. A few creaks here and there, but nothing insurmountable. The problem is I just don't have the "hay in the barn" as another running blogger put it. Running 10 miles 2 weeks after a 2 week hiatus, after 3 months of interrupted training is just not smart. Yeah, I could get through Saturday, but at what cost?

My physical happens to be Thursday, and hopefully I'll come out of there with the confidence and PT referral I need to keep my eyes on the road ahead, not just the next step in front of me.

The next round of races that I'm looking toward is fall. Fall is lousy with halfs and fulls around here, plus a smattering of 10K's and the like. It's a long way till then, and without the high of the 10 miler to draw from, it's going to be really tough going to make it through the summer. I'll admit to feeling a little bit lost right now. I run to reach goals, and having not reached my goal, it makes the next one harder to set, let alone reach.

I think I'll take a few days to just wallow in it, but then it's moving on, my eyes up ahead on the road, thinking of autumn.

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

I'm *really* not running!

I think the Supportive Husband gave me cooties.

As if the flulike illness wasn't enough, then there was the painful side. As that got better, I realized how much the rest of me hurt from hunching over to compensate. So I booked a massage to fix that. However, just to put the exclamation point at the end of the sentence, my toe started hurting. I went to bed with ten good piggies, and woke up with nine good piggies, and one red, swollen piggy that I can't bend or put weight on. If I had any recollection of any kind of trauma whatsoever, I would totally believe you if you told me it was broken.

So yeah, I'm officially, *officially* not running the Ten Miler, as I am officially not running right now, and haven't run (not even in place!) in over a week.

Say a little prayer for my toe - the weather has turned balmy, and I'm itchy to get back out on the roads and trails!

Saturday, March 13, 2010

yoinked

Today was the MJH8K, and I didn't run it.

I look forward to this race every year, it is the first reliable sign of spring. After a very long and snowy winter (60 inches of snow, in a place that usually gets about a foot), I *needed* this race. And guess what?

Yeah, I got sick. AGAIN. I've been sick more than well the past few months. It wasn't strep this time, but my symptoms were very similar - fever, aches, sore throat, swollen lymph nodes. The rapid test came out negative, and I haven't heard back on the culture, so that's likely negative, too.

And on top of it all, I pulled a muscle or strained a ligament or otherwise yoinked (that's the technical term) a good portion of my right torso. It's an injury nearly as stupid as the time I tripped going up the steps at the bagel shop and twisted my ankle. Like a total dummy, I messed with perfection and decided to hand carry a duffel bag rather than use my airline pilot wheelie bag when we went to Vegas (with a side trip to Zion National Park) last week. I can only move my right arm in certain directions - getting my shirt and pants on is quite the challenge, and I end up contorting myself like a Cirque du Soleil acrobat to avoid certain movements.

So I'm calling The Supportive Husband's physical therapist on Monday to get myself patched up.

I fully admit to being optimistic to the point of Pollyanna-ism, but my optimism is failing me right now. At this point, I'm just hoping to be able to spend a little time on the recumbent bike tomorrow. Lifting weights is entirely out of the question, as are running and swimming. I can't push either kid in the stroller. I know the 10 miler, 3 weeks away, is a no go for me this year.

And I feel like such a failure. I was totally on track to do it, I had padding built into my training schedule. But all those January and February weekday miles are as useless as our checked bag that never arrived in Vegas. Carefully planned and packed, but if it didn't show up on the baggage carousel, we might as well have never packed it in the first place.

I know, all those miles were good for something, regardless of whether I manage to meet my goals. Overall health and fitness, right? Cold comfort right now, as I sit swaddled in a heating pad.

And in the big scheme of things, a little yoinking really isn't that tragic. It's not like I blew out my knee or got cancer or broke my arm. So tell me to buck up, interwebs. Tell me that tomorrow is fresh with no mistakes in it yet. Tell me to play the glad game!

Tell me that I will kick the 10 miler's ass next year, and the sting of not running it this year will fade fast once I've got that finisher's medal around my neck.

Right?