Injured at 69

It is always with great reluctance that a runner, especially this stubborn one, must admit that he is injured.  But alas, an old injury I have had before has cropped up again, perhaps because of our relatively steep training program, perhaps because of running too fast on that new pair of shoes I began wearing Thursday.  (It does pay, I have found, to review your running log and try to identify what has caused a problem so as to avoid it again.)  I remember feeling some discomfort when I completed a short-three mile run on those shoes.  (See post of February 23:  "I also noticed a lot of stiffness in my right leg, involving the IT band and the knee - the new shoes, perhaps? - which, however, seems to improve the more I run.")

Saturday's five mile run left no doubt that there was a problem.  I limped my way halfway across the parking lot, and although once again the pain disappeared the more I ran (five miles at an average of 10:47), I found myself nearly hobbling the rest of the day.  Monday morning I tried run/walking in my old shoes - the ones I had been wearing while awaiting the arrival of the new ones - but without success.  So  I returned and tried the new ones again, only to find that the improvement was slight.  I ended up going out on the beach at the Picnic Area and realized I had misjudged the tide, which was nearly high, forcing me to keep stopping and walking in the soft sand on the upper part of the beach.  And then it began to rain.

Oh well.  So it goes.  As Hamlet bemoaned, "How all occasions do inform against me!"

Yesterday I bought a knee brace at Walgreens, similar to one I have at home that seemed to help in the past, and I spent the evening resting, putting my feet up to finish "Death Comes to Pemberley."  The test came this morning when, brace on knee and possessed with a determination only to listen closely to my body, I ran three miles, gingerly at first, but more and more confidently when I got to Fort Macon Road.  I had to stop and adjust the brace twice, but it went relatively well - an average of 12-minute miles, and not too much pain.  I know that I can run a 5-K; I am pretty sure that I can run a 10-K; but I realize it would be foolish to attempt the half marathon.  So I will be conservative on Saturday, schedule a visit to "Dr. Sue" when we return to Highlands, and set my sights on another race, perhaps the Flying Pirate Half Marathon in April.

Meanwhile, Martha is carrying out the final week of her training plan perfectly, running five miles on Monday and three miles this morning.  I believe that she will have the best race she has had in a long time, and her first half marathon in three years.  For my part, I have become aware that I am a disappointed runner who has been feeling a little too sorry for himself; Martha has been indulgent about my low spirits and I appreciate it.  As a runner I know that injury is all but inevitable.  I have recovered in the past and will do so again.

So I walked out on the beach this afternoon at low tide, enjoying the overcast sky, the calm conditions and the glassy ocean.  Yesterday Martha spotted two dolphins in the surf, close to shore, but I saw nothing today.  Only those dark clouds that seemed to be clearing a little, and this odd little piece of broken shell, or rock, pitted with tiny holes, which I have placed reverently in the offering plate on the table.