Leg Hurt
This evening, Julie and I embarked on a plan. She would take Greg for a run in the stroller, while I went to the grocery store. It was a good plan and it began with the following exchange.
"Greg, we're going for a run and you'll ride in the stroller", she said.
"Stroller run?" Greg asked, gently pressing Julie (again) to adhere to a consistent lingua franca.
Julie smiled and verified, "stroller run."
A happy little guy then turned to me, "Dadda run?" he asked.
"I'm not going to run, buddy. My leg hurts." I carefully avoided mentioning the rival activity.
"Leg hurts," Greg said and began to inspect my right leg.
"My left leg hurts," I said, pointing to my left calf. "I can't run."
"Leg hurts," Greg said, shifting his attention to the area I indicated. He studied it for a moment, then...
"Dadda medicine?"
Julie and I melted. There were hugs.
I told that story for two reasons. The first being that it was adorable and I wanted to write it down so I wouldn't forget it. The second reason is that I want to back in to soliciting sympathy for my first ever official running injury.
I've had minor stuff before, but between being almost enthusiastic in my willingness to take time off and the occasional "surprising" magazine article that claimed heavier runners weren't in any particular danger of injury, I've always felt kinda bullet proof.
Then, a week ago, 4 miles into a 6 mile out-and-back run, I took a step. I thought I felt an unusual stiffness. Ten to twenty steps later I was in the fun gung ho, "Cool, lets run through this!" stage. About five steps after that, I decided it wasn't funny anymore and it was time to walk/limp the last two miles home.
Over the next few days, I experienced an exciting part of Julie's world that I've never properly understood. Perfectly intelligent and friendly advice like, "take a week off" I received with unhappy growls. Julie directed me to websites that I refused to read for days because I didn't really want to deal with them. After previously claiming that I would be all over any excuse to get acupuncture or a massage, I brushed off Julie's advice because that stuff is for people that don't have ... I don't know. I think I made up a reason.
What I'm saying is that I've been cranky. Which is great because I totally get it now. This SUCKS! It sucks with grave injustice and sucking. Yay for upgraded empathy!
Good news is that I'm coming back. This morning I was able to do a treadmill thing where I walked a mile and then ran like 100 feet. As long as I hobbled funny, it didn't seem to make my leg too angry. Then I walked another half mile, and ran another 100 feet. Then I stopped. I imagine I'll be back in the game soon.
In closing, please consider the following exciting experiment.
Cooking tater tots in the waffle iron is a 6/10 proposition. When you're done you have delicious tater tots, loosely fused into a delicious hash brown. The down side is that the waffle dents pack the potatoes together into very dense hard squares that are non-fun to eat.
"Greg, we're going for a run and you'll ride in the stroller", she said.
"Stroller run?" Greg asked, gently pressing Julie (again) to adhere to a consistent lingua franca.
Julie smiled and verified, "stroller run."
A happy little guy then turned to me, "Dadda run?" he asked.
"I'm not going to run, buddy. My leg hurts." I carefully avoided mentioning the rival activity.
"Leg hurts," Greg said and began to inspect my right leg.
"My left leg hurts," I said, pointing to my left calf. "I can't run."
"Leg hurts," Greg said, shifting his attention to the area I indicated. He studied it for a moment, then...
"Dadda medicine?"
Julie and I melted. There were hugs.
* * *
I told that story for two reasons. The first being that it was adorable and I wanted to write it down so I wouldn't forget it. The second reason is that I want to back in to soliciting sympathy for my first ever official running injury.
I've had minor stuff before, but between being almost enthusiastic in my willingness to take time off and the occasional "surprising" magazine article that claimed heavier runners weren't in any particular danger of injury, I've always felt kinda bullet proof.
The minor stuff, friction bleeding.
Then, a week ago, 4 miles into a 6 mile out-and-back run, I took a step. I thought I felt an unusual stiffness. Ten to twenty steps later I was in the fun gung ho, "Cool, lets run through this!" stage. About five steps after that, I decided it wasn't funny anymore and it was time to walk/limp the last two miles home.
Whatever that middle part is, it seems to be important for running.
Over the next few days, I experienced an exciting part of Julie's world that I've never properly understood. Perfectly intelligent and friendly advice like, "take a week off" I received with unhappy growls. Julie directed me to websites that I refused to read for days because I didn't really want to deal with them. After previously claiming that I would be all over any excuse to get acupuncture or a massage, I brushed off Julie's advice because that stuff is for people that don't have ... I don't know. I think I made up a reason.
What I'm saying is that I've been cranky. Which is great because I totally get it now. This SUCKS! It sucks with grave injustice and sucking. Yay for upgraded empathy!
Good news is that I'm coming back. This morning I was able to do a treadmill thing where I walked a mile and then ran like 100 feet. As long as I hobbled funny, it didn't seem to make my leg too angry. Then I walked another half mile, and ran another 100 feet. Then I stopped. I imagine I'll be back in the game soon.
In closing, please consider the following exciting experiment.
Frozen tater tot hash browns.
Cooking tater tots in the waffle iron is a 6/10 proposition. When you're done you have delicious tater tots, loosely fused into a delicious hash brown. The down side is that the waffle dents pack the potatoes together into very dense hard squares that are non-fun to eat.
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