I’d just come off yet another painful breakup; this one particularly so. I’d taken a direction that was leading to the pits of the dark places of self-indulgence and self-destruction; culminating with a New Year’s weekend completely lost. I peeled my still clothed body off the couch to take Eddie outside to do his business. Only I was living on the third floor requiring I leash him, walk him down three flights and around the property. Not my idea of how to wake-up that morning.
Sometime in that moment I realized I’d hit a decision point and needed to make one. Fortunately I chose to put on a pair of tennis shoes; they couldn’t be accurately called running shoes, and made my way out the door and around the big square that I knew was somewhere between 2-3 miles. I made it about ½ way and had to walk back home. If I’d had something available to drink or smoke for the walk back I would have.
I had heard of the River Run from others; particularly my former roommate who had completed a couple. To me running 9.3 miles seemed unfathomable, yet I knew the event was still over six weeks away and I was sure I could figure out a way to hit the starting line.
I hit the starting line of the 2010 Tucson Marathon in as rough of shape as I’d been in years; both ankles wrapped to the point of pain and pumped full of ibuprofen. The irony of my first event just a little under 15 years earlier being under similar circumstances. For that March, ’96 Gate River Run my entire body ached from the seven weeks of self-guided training that broke me out of a decade long hibernation from any type of routine training. The prior several weeks leading up to this past December I’d tripped, twice, and rather severely sprained both ankles; actually the right Achilles and left posterior ankle. Mix in an ultra a week before the first sprain and a lengthy bike event between the two trips and I was less than ready to take on another starting line, especially not a full marathon that I knew would take a toll on my already fatigued quads and sketchy ankles. However, twocommitments had been made. The first was my plan to complete this December event and second was to take off a few weeks to rest; specifically at least through the end of the year.
As soon as I finished my first competitive running event in a decade I took a couple photos, pre-digital age you know, found a phone, pre-cell, and called the gal I had just started seeing. To say I was beside myself with all sorts of new emotions would be an understatement. I recall there being somewhat of a sizable post race party; yet I was already planning ahead to my next event that I didn’t want to mess up all my new found training with a bunch of junk food, soda and booze. I hung around for awhile around the downtown Jacksonville riverfront party to mingle with a bunch of people I didn’t know before packing it up and heading back to the apartment. For me this would be the first of several similar long days over the next fifteen years.
January 1, 2011 came and went without more than a passing thought to pulling down a bike or hitting the trails for a few miles on my three-weeks rested legs. This was the most time off I had taken in years; probably since a deep groin strain brought on by overuse at a bachelor party in Orlando, July of 2004. I’d wait one more day–until the 2nd and that would also be the first day out with my new GPS–I really was excited; the most excited about a slog I’d been in months! I headed for the familiarity of the lower-Tucson Mountain range trails; I’ve run or biked every mile of this set of single-track which made it the default choice. Nine careful, deliberate slow miles ending at dusk reminded me how much work was ahead of me to get my feet and fitness back.
January 3rd I took off a little later and felt a little residual fatigue and soreness from the prior day; as slow as that was. A repeat of the destination, just a little shorter. Approaching the final hill 1/4 mile from home I felt an odd pain in my left knee; something unfamiliar yet I knew it wasn’t right. I winced as a familiar neighbor walker met me on my decent. Once he passed; pride in tow; I slowed down to a near walk to finish the day.Ames’ had just come off a few days of decompression masked as an illness so I wasn’t about to trouble her; she’s been unbelievably supportive and this would only reinforce her opinion that I really needed to take it easy a few weeks….not just 20something days. Knock back a few old Rx I had laying around and call it a night.
I woke up the next morning knowing something was wrong; I’ve run the continuum of injuries from bumps and bruises to multiple requiring CT scans, MRIs and even one requiring a tetanus shot. Yup~~ making sure AniMal’s shots are current does matter. Fast forward a few weeks, a couple appointments and in a little more than twelve hours I’ll know the fate of the busted limb; I’m optimistic. Stay tuned.
wag more; bark less
AniMal