That run I was crowing about Monday? Yeah, it may have wrecked me. If your doctor tells you NOT to run for a month, maybe you shouldn’t think “I’m a ruuner, I’ll know when I can get back at it” or something similar. Maybe you should not fucking run for a month, And if you do, and it feels OK, maybe running 3 days later is pushing your luck. Because if you ran 4 miles Friday, and Monday you run 5, but that last mile feels “a little tweaky” on your shin, that’s not good. And if you walk a mile with your husband after work and you’re noticeably limping at the end when you normally run 35 miles per week, that’s really bad.
It leads to you realizing you’re an idiot. It makes you realize that taking your running shoes on vacation is not a good idea. It makes you realize that running along Lake Michigan isn’t going to happen this year. It makes you realize you actually have an injury. It makes you question that half marathon you’re signed up for 2 months from now. It makes you desperately cross train in hopes of keeping cardio strength, fitness, and weight in check.
It also frees you. Your running shoes are staying home. Your vacation is about exploring a city with your husband instead of sneaking in a 6 mile run before he’s ready to start sightseeing in the morning. Your vacation is full of walks, and food, and fun. The frantic part desperately trying to fit in exercise will be gone. And though it’s terrifying, it’s damn sure freeing.
Moral of the story? Listen to your doctor. If the pain was so bad you went to the doctor on a Saturday, and then followed up with the xray place the following Monday, and shoved crutches in your armpits in between, AND looked for a cane half heartedly at Goodwill because your dr told you so…then maybe don’t run for a month. And then, as he said, the counter resets every freaking time you do. Maybe you just ruined your chances of running that half marathon you signed up for in November. Maybe that DOUBLE half marathon weekend you were thinking of being a badass and doing is off the table. Maybe you were basically a running novice, and ran 6 months straight, 30+ miles each week, and it caught up with you. Suck on that, runner chutzpah.
And just because I can’t end a post without some hilarity, it was pre vacation night at our house. Which generally means it’s also pizza night. And I’d like to imagine Duncan a little bit like this: