Turning the Page

Friday was the last day at my job (my next desk will live at another NEOhio university), so I spent most of the weekend eating cupcakes and reveling with Neil in not yet turning on the heat despite it snowing a few days ago. The no-heat is a pride thing. And it’s totally my doing.

So, Monday was the beginning of a new chapter, as they say. And since I have some time before my next spot starts, I headed to the rec. center bright and early for my first day back on the track.

Before and after spinning and circling the elliptical, I walked a fast mile around the track (which isn’t remotely as entertaining as strolling my neighborhood) and bounced into an ever-so-slight jog. It felt fine. I turned it up a half-notch. Still fine. My confidence was up and my cardio seems like it’s right where I left it.

I ran my first mile back in 10:34. Good, G.

So, I wasn’t even winded after mile one, and fought with myself over how far to let myself run. My body felt ready for at least five miles… but how did I hurt myself again? Pushing too hard? Yeah.

But I admit that I picked up the pace for the second mile—I just wanted to test out my trusty left leg. I started running a typical training pace (around 9:00-9:30/mile), which felt normal, comfortable.

And then a couple of people crowded the track behind me and I picked up my pace for a half lap. I was running around 8:30/mile pace and could feel some tightness creeping into my left calf, so I slowed down RIGHT AWAY. Good, G, again. My leg loosened right away, and I finished the second mile very easily in 9:00.

The hardest part: stopping. My body isn’t quite as out of whack as I had feared—I should know better by now. After working out on the bikes and elliptical, I felt like my body would rebel and my breathing would be a lost cause. It was better than I could have hoped (knock on wood). And several hours later, there are no adverse effects. I was, nevertheless, certain to take my still-running prescription of ibuprofen to stop/prevent swelling in my leg.

My only fear is that those 800mg monsters are going to mask some pain I should feel. But today just felt smooth. I don’t see a Turkey Trot in the near future, but maybe I’ll grab some turkey and do my own trot that morning. Perhaps I’ll learn my lesson this time. It’s a new chapter. And St. Malachi is only four months away!

(On a much sadder note, Skippy isn’t doing well again. My mom said he might be headed for that long doggy nap. It’s such a downer when your little doggy brother has become an old man. But the pooch has lived eleven-and-a-half day-brightening years, and never really stopped looking like a puppy. Skippy has always been the most lovable, smile-invoking furry thing you’ll ever meet. And I hope that when he gets there, the doggy spa in the sky will have reserved the presidential suite for him. He deserves it.)