I started running again. Regularly.
Unbelievably, I felt nervous heading out on my first run over 3 miles in months. And so, I donned a prior race shirt (in this case, my one ultra) to help me remember who I was as runner.
Off I went. It was freaking glorious. I ran up hills feeling strong. My calves were quiet. My pace was slow but not OMG I could walk faster slow; more cautious than anything. My cardio was good. I was delighted the whole 4 miles.
And so I did.
Just like old times, I grabbed my running bff and we headed out for a FLAT 5 miles. And, just like old times my calves whispered, then screamed. I walked. I gnashed my teeth.
Clearly, they were tired from my victorious run two days before, but really, this was all too familiar.
So, I can’t run the way I want to. I can occasionally run 3 miles, but training is out of the question. I am opening my palm and letting it go. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.
Since I can’t run I’ve decided to give the barefoot/minimalist trend a serious go. You have to start painfully slow with short distances with that anyway. I’ve since run/walked 2 miles in my Newton’s and then barefoot. It was ok, but glorious is not the word that comes to mind. Still, I got it done.
I’ll keep you updated.
In other news, I cleaned off the mess of my nightstand today. Look what I found:
I read that magazine and apparently it didn’t help much. Still, it’s nice to see I can be optimistic.
And in a WOW, pigs can fly sort of way, we had rope climbing as part of the workout of the day (WOD) in crossfit and dayum if I wasn’t the best female rope climber there. Success was sweet. Getting down was not. I needed gloves. And socks. I went up 5 times. Down 5 times.
Sadly, it resulted in a weeping wound on my ankle where the skin was rope burned off and several inner thigh bruises (I’ll spare you that scary sight). Last night it hurt in my sleep. Today I realized it was still weepy. And hot. It doesn’t look nearly as terrible as it feels. owwww. I slapped Neosporin on it.