Actually, the title of this post is a bit misleading. When I'm healthy enough to run without random bits of my legs and feet feeling like they're made of broken glass, I enjoy running. Strapping on (yes, I know, I said strap on) the ipod and hitting the pavement for an hour or three is a great way to burn tension, unplug and work through stacks of the crap and assorted detritus that accumulates in your brain during your day to day life. Believe me, this is a good thing, especially if, like me, you currently have huge swaths of your world being torn apart by heavy equipment and the scraps left to rot in the sun on your front lawn.
So why am I writing like this? Because I went running twice this weekend. The first time, yesterday, was at the tail end of a brick workout. For you non-triathletes, this is a workout comprised of two sports. In this case a 40 mile bike ride followed by a 30 minute run. Now, if you follow this blog, you know that I have had assorted issues with my feet and ankles over the last year and that I haven't done much running beyond racing.
I've been working on it, though, and the foot has been doing a lot better. I've been running again for a couple of weeks and was up to four miles. So I thought the brick would work out okay. Not so much. Seven minutes into the run, Mark was out of sight and my foot was thunking down on the road like a cinder block. A cinder block wrapped in nerve endings. I tried to tough it out. Pros play hurt right? Fuck the pros. I decided to walk until minute 10 and try again.
No dice. I walked to minute 12. 13. 15... Are you seeing the pattern? 24 minutes after the run began, I limped my way back to the car.
Which brings me to today. Just to make sure I'm not broken, I decided to try a run only workout. I went down to the boardwalk and banged out 5.75 miles pain-free. What the fuck? Seriously...