All Runs Come to an End
I had to remind myself of this basic truth this morning.
As that suggests, not one of my better runs. Originally planned to do 9, but it took a little longer than planned to get out of the house. So I cut my loop back to 8. Going through Penn campus down to the river, I felt a bit sluggish and my ankle was hurting. Figured I'd be prudent and cut it back to an Art Museum loop (6.5 miles).
The ankle pain continued, alternating between the ankle and the post-tibular tendon. The latter pain got my attention. I've had this kind of tendon teasing before with my achilles, kind of just on the edge of bad inflammation but not getting there. This sub-threshold pain can persist indefinitely with me, so my reaction is usually to call the bluff, and only when it definitely gets inflamed will I cut back. Yet I would also prefer things not get to that point. And this morning I was very conscious of the texture of the surfaces I was running on - the crown of the road, the dips and bumps in the asphalt, etc. and how that affected my ankle. This hyper-awareness led to an uneasiness that precluded my getting any rhythm into the run.
Then came a nervous detour (in the dark) about 100m up and then back on gravelly train tracks to get around a freight train parked in front of the Locust St. entrance to the Schuylkill trail. After that, I decided to cut the run even shorter. I ran to the Market Street steps and headed home.
The run seemed to take forever. I already mentioned the train tracks. I just couldn't find a reason for speed, and when that happens then the yellow lights turn red instead of inspiring bursts of speed to avoid stopping. This exacerbates the mood and at some point I just stopped caring about my performance.
The actual route, across the river and up Market Street, was very similar to what used to be my bread and butter run back in the day when I ran with Jeff, Tony and Marc. Back when I had my Tony in the running stroller. Truly back in the day.
A lumbering slog is the best way I can describe this run. For the finale, I turned from Locust onto 47th St. and a sharper pain flared through my ankle. I then hobbled the last four blocks home. I take some consolation in being right to intuit the need to progressively cut the distance of my run down. Now I figure I'd best retreat to the hamster wheel for the rest of my runs this week.
5.1 miles in 49:39. No wonder the run seemed to take forever. Definitely not going on my end-of-the-year top-ten list.
As that suggests, not one of my better runs. Originally planned to do 9, but it took a little longer than planned to get out of the house. So I cut my loop back to 8. Going through Penn campus down to the river, I felt a bit sluggish and my ankle was hurting. Figured I'd be prudent and cut it back to an Art Museum loop (6.5 miles).
The ankle pain continued, alternating between the ankle and the post-tibular tendon. The latter pain got my attention. I've had this kind of tendon teasing before with my achilles, kind of just on the edge of bad inflammation but not getting there. This sub-threshold pain can persist indefinitely with me, so my reaction is usually to call the bluff, and only when it definitely gets inflamed will I cut back. Yet I would also prefer things not get to that point. And this morning I was very conscious of the texture of the surfaces I was running on - the crown of the road, the dips and bumps in the asphalt, etc. and how that affected my ankle. This hyper-awareness led to an uneasiness that precluded my getting any rhythm into the run.
Then came a nervous detour (in the dark) about 100m up and then back on gravelly train tracks to get around a freight train parked in front of the Locust St. entrance to the Schuylkill trail. After that, I decided to cut the run even shorter. I ran to the Market Street steps and headed home.
The run seemed to take forever. I already mentioned the train tracks. I just couldn't find a reason for speed, and when that happens then the yellow lights turn red instead of inspiring bursts of speed to avoid stopping. This exacerbates the mood and at some point I just stopped caring about my performance.
The actual route, across the river and up Market Street, was very similar to what used to be my bread and butter run back in the day when I ran with Jeff, Tony and Marc. Back when I had my Tony in the running stroller. Truly back in the day.
A lumbering slog is the best way I can describe this run. For the finale, I turned from Locust onto 47th St. and a sharper pain flared through my ankle. I then hobbled the last four blocks home. I take some consolation in being right to intuit the need to progressively cut the distance of my run down. Now I figure I'd best retreat to the hamster wheel for the rest of my runs this week.
5.1 miles in 49:39. No wonder the run seemed to take forever. Definitely not going on my end-of-the-year top-ten list.
posted by seebo | 1:24 PM
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