Running on gluten-free carbs…

Just over 600 miles and already striking out

600 Miles!

600 Miles!

Anyone who knows me and has seen me this past week will know that I am not a happy girl.  How could I not be happy, you might wonder.  I mean, on Saturday I purchased brand new running shoes.  That would make any runner happy, yes?

Well…normally…yes.

But not me.  Not right now.

Why, you might inquire, am I miserable?  Because I haven’t been able to run.

It happened…again.  My roommate followed me too close and when I had to stop as someone stepped in front of me, her foot came down on the back of my shoe and tugged my Achilles again.  AGAIN!!!  At first I tried to lessen my speed and intensity…but the pain wasn’t getting any better.  So, I had to make a conscious, and difficult decision, to rest.

Yeah…I’m moody now.  My runs mean more to me than anything.  I’m hard at training and now…for the second time…for the same reason as before…I’m sitting on the bench.  And here I sit with weekends of races ahead of me, including a 4-miler this Saturday.  I’ve been taking Ibuprofen like it’s crack and icing my foot whenever possible…but it just won’t get better.  My mornings at the gym have been delegated to the weights and the elliptical.  UGH!!  Let me run!!

I hate it.  I hate every moment of not being able to run.  Every synapse in my brain tells me to just do it…and then the logical part kicks in and tells me…if I rest it…it will get better…faster.  Well, I’ve been resting it and while the pain has subsided some, I feel like every muscle from my left calf down to the bottom of my heel (and sometimes through the arch) is tight now because I’ve been trying to compensate for the soreness in the heel.  UGH.  So, I’m now making an even bigger conscious effort to not limp and not baby my foot.  The problem is…it still hurts.  And the longer the pain lasts, the more concerned I get about Saturday’s race and the unhappier I become.

I’m not in a good place right now.  The elliptical machine does not make me happy.  My 35 minutes are better spent running than gliding back and forth on a machine.  It’s not the same.  It’s fantastic cross training…but it’s not the same.  It doesn’t feel the same.  It’s not…the run.

The Grand Slam 4 Miler is taking place downtown this weekend…and I’ll be there.  I just hope I can put forth some effort in this run.  I ran one hell of a 4 mile race this past winter and I was hoping to see how this compared.  I’m thinking my pace will be slow…my effort easy…and I’ll just have to wait until the next one.

And yes…this once again…makes me unhappy.  It literally pisses me off.  I hate being injured.  Yes…it was an accident, but being sidelined again for being stepped on again is not an easy pill for me to swallow.  I want my run.  I want to get out there and do what I love to do more than anything in this world.  And when I can’t…when I have to sit here with my foot on an ice pack, praying that the running gods will have mercy on me and get me back into form by Saturday morning…it’s hard to feel confident.  I want to train.  I want to be out on that road, feeling that pavement under my feet, or…hell…finally properly seeing what my new running shoes can do.

Frustrated doesn’t begin to explain how I feel.  I’m upset.  I’m sad.  I’m missing my run.

I just need to run.

So…another day of rest, more ice, and a shot of Ibuprofen in the morning, noon, and at dinner.  Maybe, at least, by Saturday, I can walk without a limp.  Or better yet…make some attempt at a lope…if not a jog.  But a run?  Would that be asking too much?

I hope not.  Because the call of the road is constant…and my running shoes are begging for some pavement to beat.

I guess we’ll just see how it goes…


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