Sidelined

All active people are bound to find themselves on the bench time and again; and when you factor lack of preparation into the equation, the likelihood of this occurrence increases two-fold.

So I shouldn't be surprised that after spontaneously registering for a half marathon last Saturday (despite having only run a total of 40 or so miles in all of January), I now find myself with an angry right calf. A hissing, spitting, pissed off cat of a right calf. A right calf that is so knotted up that, during Tuesday's run, I was forced to abort my easy four miles only halfway through because the knots were quickly joining forces to stage a coup into a full blown cramp that left me limping.

(I haven't run only 2.6 miles in....forever.)

And I should have known. I should have balanced my last minute decision to run this race by going deliberately slow. But it was a beautiful (albeit freezing) morning. The sun shone, the runners chattered, the wind stayed calm. I blasted through my first five miles at the same pace I ran Richmond and paid for it on the back side. I felt the calf seizing up during those last few miles but plowed ahead anyway and managed to run my second fastest time of 1:55:40.

I should have known that when my leg locked up and nearly dropped me to my knees in the parking lot that I was going to have a lingering problem.

So this week has found me stretching, kneading, rolling, and jogging in place, feeling antsy to get back to the pavement. My few yoga practices have not been focused; I'm still cursing my calf.

Cursing it, but acquiescing to it. I only want to be sidelined for a little while.