The Bear Emerges

It's been a long winter. A long, long winter without running.

Finally, it was time to emerge from hibernation.

I got out three times last week. Not far, not hard. But I was out there at least.

My legs felt like heavy logs on the first couple of runs. Then I had the joy of feeling the effects of lactic acid in muscles that have been doing far too little work in recent weeks.

It's good to be back on the streets at least a few days a week.

This bear gets grumpy without enough exercise.

Lost and Found

Months of hard-won conditioning now have been lost....

Frustrating, it's true.

But I know this for a fact because I found it out while on a run....yeah, you read that correctly....A RUN!

My stretching has been going fairly well in recent days. I don't notice a ton of new flexiblity yet, but it has been successful enough to make the throbbing ache in my left hip recede into the background.

I laced up the Mizunos and hit the streets this afternoon. The first time in nearly two months.

Although I was taking it slow and steady, after only a few blocks I already could feel my heart pounding in my chest. Never thought it would feel so good to feel so out of shape. I was running again.

Heeding the advice I have been given, I cut it short after a mile or so.

Sure it was a short, short run. I barely was outside for anytime at all. But still, I felt pumped up and was radiating energy when I got home.

Definitely need to keep up on the stretching. The hamstrings remain a problem area. I get on my back, grab one leg just below the knee and then attempt to extend the leg straight to stretch the hamstring.

Anybody have other hamstring stretches that seem to do the job?

I'll try to resist the urge to run again tomorrow, but Friday? Well, I'll be out there again.

After a single outing and a distance that barely qualifies as a run, I know it's crazy to get too far ahead of myself, but I want to sign up for a race. This one looks interesting.....

Reset

Leaving the physical therapist's office yesterday, I carried a list of instructions for new exercises, a torturing device known as a foam roller.....and hope.

I am going to have to reset my conditioning and my strength.

My injury has caused my left leg to become noticeably weaker than its counterpart on the right. Thus, the exercises. The foam roller may not feel wonderful when being used, but it is remarkable in its ability to knead deep into tight muscles. My pathetically tight hamstrings also drew a rebuke. They very much could have contributed to the injury because it required my quads to bear so much more of the load.

So, the plan is to do the stretching and strengthening exercises twice a day.

But the good news is.....I can resume running!!!

Only about a mile at a time to start. But I'll take it.

Anticipation

I have been developing and refining my ability to worry - and often come up with worst-case scenarios -- for many years. When I was little, my mom used to refrain from telling me the night before when I had a dentist appointment the next morning, knowing I would worry, worry, worry until the dawn.

Well, I can't really resort to that technique now. Especially considering that I am the one who made the appointment for tomorrow morning with the physical therapist.

Maybe he will finally help me figure out what is going on with my body. Or -- here's the product of Mr. Worst-Case Scenario: he'll tell me I can't run anymore.

Staying off the streets for nearly two months and still feeling pain can't be good.

I have only ventured out running once or twice since the Marathon Debacle. Both times I felt pains in my feet.

Then I dumped my running shoes in the corner of my closet and haven't touched them since. While my feet, and my knee, now are feeling much better -- dare I say, completely healed? -- the pain in my upper thigh still persists. Plus I have some sort of ache or pain in my lower back. That can't be good, right?

Good or bad, on Monday morning I should have some answers.

In the woods

Tromping through the trails of Indian Cave State Park in southeast Nebraska provided a little cross-training over the weekend.

We began gathering with a bunch of friends for an annual fall campout, dubbed The Jamboree, more than 10 years ago.

When we started, everybody brought their dogs. Gradually, the dogs started giving away to kids. Sadly, many of the dogs who were puppies when this fall festival began now are mottled with gray hair or are no longer with us. A new generation arrived this year as Buddy the puppy joined us on the trail. The kids who started coming to the Jamboree as toddlers now are off on their own – sort of -- running through the woods and playing with the campfire.

Just because all the dogs and kids are getting older doesn’t mean that the rest of us are, right?

Pavement Therapy

OK, so that was not such a good idea.

I have been feeling better. Really I have.

My knee didn't hurt and my mysterious left foot ailment from the marathon faded away. The crisp morning air that greeted me each morning as I have been leaving for work seemed to beckon, "Jason, come out for a run...."

Why not? I thought. Maybe a short one.

So this morning I laced up my shoes for the first time in 12 days and hit the street, gently.

Well, within blocks I started feeling it in both my foot and my knee. Not bad, but enough to let me know that all still is not right. I cut it short and walked home.

I guess I am hard-headed, or maybe overly optimistic. Either way, now I am ready to take the advice.

More rest.

Progress?

It's been six days since my Milwaukee marathon debacle.

The good news? I made it through the past couple of days without resorting to the mondo-dose of ibuprofen that I needed to keep the aches and pains of my battered body at bay in the immediate aftermath of my 19-mile jaunt last Sunday. My knee still complains with nearly every step and something not good is going on with my left hip. But it's down to a relatively dull throb or twinge rather than a wild-animal-sinking-its-claws-and-teeth-into-my-leg kind of pain. That's a good thing, right?

A recurring image for me this week has been a woman runner limping back to the hotel in Milwaukee last Sunday. She was wrapped in a silver space blanket and was assisted by her husband. Although obviously in some discomfort, if not outright pain, she wore the medal given to all the finishers of the Lakefront Marathon. I ran far enough to hurt myself, but obviously not far enough to earn the medal that might offer at least a smidge of comfort from the glow of success.

OK, enough with the wallowing in self pity. It's time to move on.

I will give this resting stuff a few more days, but then I want to return to the streets soon for at least a short run to really see how I am doing.