I Hate Myself and Want to Die

Photo: Sharon Frost, Flickr Creative Commons

No. Not really. My life isn't all that bad, although there is a certain person at work for whom I have gradually lost respect the longer I have worked with him/her. This isn't about bullies with oral language processing disabilities, though. This is about running.

Last Friday, I went for a run. I went for two runs actually. First, I ran my fastest-ever mile. A 6:36 mile, in fact. I'm not making any Olympic teams, but it's not shabby for a guy who two years ago would have taken 10 minutes for the same trip. Exactly an hour after I started my mile, I ran a 23:03 5k. It's slower than what I need to qualify for the A starting wave at Peachtree by 2 seconds, but it's also only two seconds too slow after running that fast mile 53 minutes earlier. That's not my problem. Those were satisfactory efforts. The problem is that somehow on those two runs I seem to have developed hamstring origin tendonitis. Disclaimer: I have self-diagnosed this, so it very well could be a malignant tumor near the bottom of my right butt cheek, or perhaps the Antichrist is gestating in the marrow of my femur. You know, things that wouldn't bother me, but the symptoms match up pretty closely to the description at that link and several other places.

This isn't a major injury and I can't really complain too much because I haven't had any injuries from my running since the spring I first started when I struggled with shin splints until I lost that first 20 lbs. This isn't a huge injury and it shouldn't become something that hinders me in the future, especially if I rest and treat it now. The problem is that I have a race Saturday, and this is the race I've been working toward to meet one of my main running goals for the year. Remember? The A starting wave at this year's Peachtree. I just mentioned it 10 sentences ago. What aren't you paying attention here?

I should have been running Tuesday and Wednesday, doing something easy today and just resting on Friday. Instead, I'm taking most of the week off to rest the tendon. I should have taken off Monday too, but I didn't run over the weekend because of the soreness. Then I made the mistake when the leg felt almost like normal again of going overboard Monday with a hard 4-miler followed by 10 miles on the bike, an hour of tennis, and another 10 miles on the bike. I had the day off, obviously. I woke up Tuesday with the soreness and stiffness being almost as bad as it was Saturday night when it was at its worst.

I'll be fine. I just felt like whining while I had the extra free time from not having to go out for a run as I rest the leg.

My tendon better not make me fall short of my goal time Saturday, though. If it does, it will pay. Oh, it will fucking pay.