Training Week #12

I was going to write the review of my first book off the Summer Reading List, but I'm in so much fucking pain today, I can't think straight.

It has been exactly 3 months since I suddenly decided I was indestructable and could easily run my ass down a 13.1 mile stretch of Long Beach. For the first 2 months I ran on my own, approaching it like it was no biggie. Then I joined a running team.

Every Sunday morning, we meet up at the Santa Monica pier at 8 am. Each week, the run is about one mile longer than the previous week. Last weekend's run was 5 miles. I let my ego get the best of me and decided to push my ass into the next pace group. I did really well time-wise, better than I thought I would.

Monday, I paid the price as my body reminded me of its unkind limits. Tuesday I figured I'd push through it and run my normal 3 miles. I have a 5k coming up on July 4th to train for, after all. That night I could barely walk up the stairs to my apartment.

[The ilio-tibial band running behind my left knee has tightened up like a vice, making it difficult to bend that leg. Since I drive a stick, this is not fun or easy to deal with. My left groin is also irritated, though a good stretch should fix that (if anyone knows of any...). The calf in my right leg feels strained, and the i-t band in that leg is beginning to protest too.]

Friday I couldn't even leave my house, my legs hurt so badly. Saturday I did some walking and that helped relieve the pain a little bit. Today I got up, per the usual routine, and hit the deck with the slowest pace I've ever run. It took 75 minutes to do 4.5 miles.

And that's okay.

I'm slowly recovering, but I am not a happy camper. I'm literally home-bound for fear of navigating the stairs in my building. So I guess I'm ordering pizza for dinner.

Mmm, healthy!

And I'm not writing this for sympathy because that's not going to help me heal any faster. I just needed to vent about my own stupidity. Frankly, the moral of the story is to fuck your ego in the ass and then lock it in the closet when you're on the path to distance running.

Or so I've learned.