Transitions

It's been roughly two months now that I've been back at running consistently. Before that, during the month of July, I got out a few times a week and then took a two-week backpacking trip in the high mountains of Colorado. That's where I noticed some transitions taking place. All the symbolism of the trip aside (think post-graduation rite of passage), the break in routine seemed to jumpstart a healing and growing process that had eluded me for so long in the months prior. To summarize the purgatorial plight I'd found myself in for those months, a rash of injuries and subsequent visits to doctors and specialists had me convinced that I had something called a sports hernia. I shoudn't even be calling it that, because it's a terrible misnomer and it's really a much more complex injury to the pelvic musculature than a simple hernia. But that discussion doesn't belong on this website, so I'll cut to the chase. For insurance reasons I couldn't have the recommended surgery, and I thought I'd either be saving pennies until I could afford it out of pocket or that I'd wait until I could change my insurance.

In July the symptoms started to slowly decrease in both severity and frequency, even as I returned to being more active. Now it's a rarity that I have any of those symptoms. When they come, they're pretty minor, and it's usually after a long, hard day. Ironically, I now have a new insurance provider that will cover the procedure, but given the way things have been progressing I doubt I'll go that route.

August went off without a hitch, and I logged a run for almost every day in September.

Today, I'm at the tail end of what I'm writing off as my first bad week (running-wise) in two months. Everything in my life feels new right now, and I guess this newness finally started to wear on me.

An early work obligation on Wednesday kept me from getting out to meet the Cardozo Crawlers at the high school of the same name for our weekly track session. Last week we'd done something the group organizer, Sam, called the Haverford (after the college?) which consisted of 3x1600, 3x400, 3x200, all with 100m recoveries. I held back on the 1600s and they came in at about 6:12. Even better, I still had a lot left in my tank for the shorter reps.

Well, instead of the track routine on Wednesday, I managed to get in a quick run after work instead. But I ended up with a cramp in the arch of my right foot that lasted through the last mile.

I slept in yesterday, and chalked it up as rest. I decided today after work that things felt good enough to head back to the track. On the way out the door I decided I'd keep it simple and shoot for 3-4x1600.

The legs felt surprisingly springy, but after warming up with some strides I was already doubting my decision to do this today. I progressively lost steam through the first 1600, to the point that I miscounted and lapped after 1200 and began to slow down for my recovery. That this was enough to ruin the workout for me says something about the state of my mind today. And as I cursed myself for stopping, I drew an analogy to my mindset this week, in that I've just felt a little off kilter. I ended up with about 4 miles and some strides in 34:47.

This would-be workout, and the past week, are a reminder that I have a bit of fine tuning to do in terms of balancing my efforts with rest. This applies not just to running, but across the board. It certainly feels good to be out here again. While I feel some frustration that injury is still a major focus of my running and writing, I'm accepting that, for me at least, I guess it just comes with the territory. I'll probably take the weekend off and see how I feel on Monday.