Quote du jour: Many of life's failures are people who did not realize how close they were to success when they gave up. -- Thomas Edison
I almost didn't get out of bed this morning.
Friday, I had the worst running experience in the history of creation, since the dawn of time, since Homo sapiens first got the idea about walking on two legs. It stunk. Everything that possibly could hurt did hurt. I couldn't walk without limping. (I don't think this was entirely the fault of the run. The asthma attack made it hard to exercise, and getting drenched to the skin on the way to the track might have had something to do with things like muscles cramping up on me.)
Yesterday, I was still limping. I started doing serious ibuprofen and applying the ice pack, but even lying in bed I couldn't lie on the side that had the nasty leg pain just below the hip. I thought I was totally screwed; there was no way I'd be able to get up and jog a whole entire 5k.
Then I thought, well what if I could do it after all? Maybe the pain will let up and I'll be able to run. I'll never know unless I go down there and try. In the end, it was curiosity that got me out of my warm bed and sent me out into the cold, rainy pre-dawn morning.
I indulged in a whole lot of
- I promised my inner slug I was just going to walk 3 miles by the waterfront. Watch the sun rise, enjoy the scenery. (Once I'd lured the slug out of bed and down to the start of the race, it was a lot easier to ignore.)
- After a mile of jogging, the hip pain showed up. I promised the hip pain that it was going to get one-on-one time with Mr. Ice Pack. The hip pain believed me, and went away until after the race.
- After another mile of jogging, the shin splints said "Hi Merry! We're back!" I promised my shins some ibuprofen in just one more mile. The shins also believed me and the twinges went away.
- After the third mile, I told my lungs the inhaler was going to kick in any time now. Eventually, the lungs believed me.
The odd thing was -- well, there were a couple of odd things. For one, I wasn't worried about what anyone else would think about me jogging along red faced and slow. There were so many people around that I didn't feel as if anyone had time to stare at me. Besides, I was too busy making promises to my body to worry about what anyone else thought of it. (Though I did worry that my wheezing, that last mile, was getting so loud that it might scare somebody.)
The other thing that surprised me was the fact that I kept going. I did take a couple walking breaks -- when the wheezing got too bad, I had to use the inhaler -- but then I went back to jogging.
The first time I tried to run a 5k, back in January, I found it hard to keep going after the initial rush. This time, though I'm still going out too fast, it seemed natural to be jogging. I'd found a rhythm and it was easier to stick with it than to walk. I'd been trailing a couple people for the first half of the 5k, but in the second half I passed them and kept on going. That I put down to doing the couch to 5k. It wasn't grit or determination that kept me jogging, it was habit. (I don't think I was going any faster; I think the other people slowed down.)
Exercise du jour: Fanconi Anemia 5k