It rained Saturday. I had big plans – 16 miles. And I don’t mind a little cooling rain while I run. So I waited until things faded to a light drizzle and started piling on my gear while Hubby mixed my E&E Formula and filled my water bottles. I was genuinely excited to tackle my longest run to date, as that would provide me with my biggest bragging rights to date. Plus, that marathon is getting closer and I still have little itty bitty nagging worries buzzing in the darker corners of my otherwise enthusiastic brain. So, sixteen miles. Or eight. Eight’s good, right? Because that’s what I eked out before I had to call in backup.
Maybe it was the cold. Maybe it was the rain. Maybe it was the two together. Whatever the (f&*#ing) reason, my right shin was not in the mood for a good long run. Apparently, it would rather have been home soaking in a warm bath and reading Abraham Lincoln, Vampire Hunter. I tuned it out much the same way I tune out the incessant whining of children when we are trapped in the house for hours at a time in such weather. (I mean, really, how many times must I pretend to care that she gave a mean look or he refuses to stop speaking like Yoda?) My cardio was fabulous; my knees were showing solid improvement and no need to even take a break. I had my intervals up to 4:1 and I really didn’t feel like I even needed the 1 (but I was being responsible and knew I needed to keep it if I wanted to finish my sixteen). So what if my shin was whining about my foot hitting the road? It needed to buck up, buttercup! I only have so much time available for this sort of training.
But my shin seems to be as bullheaded as my daughter. When it was unable to garner enough attention through tiny tweaks and pulls, it gave an all-out shriek a try. Guess what? That worked. I stopped. I walked. I did (or tried to do) shin taps to work it out. And I eavesdropped on the debate between my Ego and my Sensibility. Ego was all for working through it (no pain, no gain!), but Sensibility felt we should all stop acting like crazy women on the side of the road, muttering and walking in circles, and just call Hubby for a ride home. I weighed the bragging rights of one training session vs. actually being able to finish training and actually running my race, and I decided one day was not nearly the equivalent of the whole shabang. Hubby was phoned and arrived like a knight in shining minivan, replete with little people to do my bidding.
So, my shin is fine. I have rested for two days now and am ready to get back in the game. Tomorrow, we have Plyometrics on the schedule and I will not be outdone by the one-legged man. And this weekend, I will once again attempt my longest run ever. If you’d rather not hear me go on and on about myself and how far I can go, might I suggest doing a little rain dance?