Today — after the weekend of accidental vomiting, many hours of Law and Order, and a futile trip to Target, which was apparently closed for some holiday — I did my first run outside.
I actually ran three miles on a treadmill last weekend and it went ok, but there was lots of soreness afterwards. So, when I ran three miles on the treadmill yesterday with no pain, the plan for today was: 30′ of running outside + 1:30 of running on the Alter-G with 2 x 30′ efforts. Very smart, very exciting, very last hard workout before Boston.
I even had a new super-cute tanktop from Old Navy, which I bought at their SALE when Target was closed. That’s what you get Target. This was the last picture of me being cute and optimistic today:
I thought running outside after two-and-a-half weeks of not moving anywhere during my workouts (besides my bike ride Saturday) would be so exciting that it would just sweep me along in a wave of sea breeze and lilacs. It didn’t. It turns out running at 100% body weight is heavier than running at 85% or 90%. I felt fat and slow and wheezy. Every minor uphill I became convinced I was the heaviest person to ever take up running.
I also became mildly convinced that, since I was running on a heavily trafficked path, someone would see me gasping and shuffling and it would ruin their image of me. How could I do that to them. It would shatter their world view. Of course, no one saw me or they did and they didn’t care, and I had to get over my bad self.
My foot started hurting each footfall on the Alter-G, which doesn’t even make any sense. How can it not hurt at 100% body weight outside, but hurt at 75% body weight on the Alter-G? How??
It’ll go away, I told myself. Lately, it’s taken 10′-15′ to warm-up and then my foot stops hurting. But, it never did. I started the 30′ at 7:05 pace and moved the body weight slowly up to 85% and it hurt. I dropped it back down to 80% body weight and it hurt. I ran faster and it hurt. When I started the 30′ at 6:45 pace, I made it 10′ before I declared defeat. Really I probably should have before, but I didn’t want to. I wanted to get my one last hard workout in. I wanted the pain to go away. I wanted to feel confident with Boston two weeks from today.
But, none of those things happened. So, instead I cried a little and I pity-ate half an order of hotdog and garlic fries. I’ve been pity eating a lot. This does not help, in case you were wondering.
At this point, the only thing to do is continue to rest my foot and ice it and take anti-inflammatories and hope really hard. I really wish I hadn’t used up our Flector patches, because I’m pretty sure those things would zap the fucking inflammation right out of my foot. And, I’ll get through Boston, I’m pretty sure — with a little wishful thinking and mental toughness (at least that’s been getting some good training lately). And, the last ten miles will probably be painful as hell. And, I’ll probably deal with it. Probably.