8 miles from Hell (or Fremont)

So maybe I’m exaggerating. Tara and I did eight miles on the Burke-Gilman Trail this morning. It is such a pretty trail and I’m hoping that one day the city has the budget to connect it through the industrial part of Ballard (totally unsafe for bikers/runners at this point).

borrowed from the city's website

I wasn’t mentally in the run for the first 4 miles. Everything felt hard. I didn’t feel like I could make it even to the turn around point, let alone all the way back to our cars. I felt weak, tired and totally out of shape. Not really what I was envisioning before the run.

Somewhere near the halfway point, my right hip started to twinge. This is the same hip that I’ve had problems with for months (before you give me the ‘park it, sister’ speech, it is more ‘off’ than ‘on’). Every so often, my IT band gets tight and reminds me that it isn’t inclined to warm up and loosen up as I go.

Confession: I am not good at stretching, even though I know it feels good/prevents this sort of thing from happening. This is not a ‘sorry I’m not sorry’ moment. It’s something that I really need to work on.

On the return trip I could feel the tightness work its way down from my hip to my knee. I needed more than a few walk & stretch breaks to finish. I would love to tell you on a scale of 1-10 where the pain was, but I can’t. My first reaction is to call all pain an 8 or 9. I want it to stop. NOW. But it took me over 24 hours to go to the ER when my appendix was preparing to explode. And that was really fucking painful.

Even though my right leg was refusing to cooperate, I mentally felt like I could run another 8 miles from there. How’s that for weird stupid unfair strange messed up?

Dear Mind & Body,

Get yourselves on the same page. Today.

Signed, Me

I’m trying to not freak out about this. My pikermi is in 26 days. I’m overanalyzing everything I’ve done in the past few days.

  • did a tempo run and a hill workout on Saturday (NOT BRILLIANT) (7 miles combined)
  • my fueling has been off for a few days (not that balanced, not as much water as I should be drinking)
  • is there something wrong with my stride? Do I run “special”?
  • need to fuel better before run (must get up earlier)

I have injured myself in a number of ways trying to do too much too soon, so I’m feeling really fragile (mostly mentally) today. I’m fighting off the urge to panic, and refusing to sit down and have a good cry about where I may or may not be. Normally, I find a good cry to be cathartic, but today I think it might feel too much like admitting defeat.

There were points on the way back where I was biting my lip (literally) because of the pain in my knee. I would stop, stretch and walk for a few minutes before running again. I probably walked a solid mile. Super disappointing. Near the end, the pain lessened, or maybe numbed. It still felt uncomfortable but it wasn’t searing like it had been. I don’t know how to interpret that. I’m aware when I’m being a big baby about physical discomfort and this was not one of those moments.

There is nothing to do but wait and see. Which I really suck at doing. Patience is a virtue that I simply don’t possess (hence all the overtraining injuries in my past). I spent a while stretching and rolling my leg when I got home and I’m RICE-ing as I type. Tomorrow is an off day, as far as running goes. I’m going to take my usual walk around the neighborhood with Bubs, but I’m gonna play it pretty conservatively regarding this whole lower extremity thing.

Deep breath.


6 thoughts on “8 miles from Hell (or Fremont)

  1. Awwww Boo take more than one deep breath. It was a great run no matter what happen. We went out 4 miles and came back 4 miles. That’s pretty awesome! I’m no running expert (as if you didn’t know this already with my lack of running gear and water) but maybe moRe than one rest day is needed.

    Dont forget running is supposed to be fun. When it stops being fun then what’s the point?

    • It’s fun right up until it starts to hurt. Then I wanna cry and throw a good old fashioned tantrum. But I just need to spend a little more time listening to my body instead of my head.

  2. Deep breath indeed. Keep doing the RICE thing. And put yourself in your shoes. Okay, that didn’t make sense. I mean, if *I* were in your shoes, what would you tell me to do? So then, put yourself in my hypothetical shoes, which are really your real shoes, and then do it. Take your advice, I mean. To hypothetical-me-but-really-you you.

    Hang in there! I’m bummed I missed you guys this morning.

    • I’m trying to take my hypothetical advice to you, if you were actually me (is that right?). I will RICE and not sit cross legged until it feels normal. Then I will not try to bite off more than my legs can chew.

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