Last week I wrote about the risks involved with futzing, suggesting we stick with GOOD when the sirens are singing the song of BETTER. I received a few compliments for my clarity, which is not a writing style I’m familiar with. To be honest, I don’t trust clarity, or more precisely, what we perceive as clarity. So let’s add some mud.
Right now I feel GOOD. I feel totally capable of running. In fact, I broke my running fast (cessation, not speed) last Saturday at Owl’s Roost: my volunteer duties required I jog (fine, I give up. I’ll use the word “jog.” I know when I’m beaten) about 3/4 mile to the first turn requiring a direction pointer. It felt good! I pointed all the half-marathoners one way, then the 3.5 milers streamed by with rival Richard in the lead, going the other way for an out-n-back. Just as the last runner went by, I saw Richard on his way back. I was going to need to race him to the next turn so I could point him in the right direction.
I was glad for the excuse to book it. My ankles felt stiff, but GOOD. I ran approx 1/4 mile in about 1:20 or so, a guestimate based on how fast it felt and how fast Richard’s race pace was. I was winded, but otherwise GOOD.
So if I feel GOOD, why not start running again? Because I want to feel BETTER. I want NO tightness, NO weird twinges, NO NOTHING other than the rabid desire to fly through the streets and greenways. I will start training again not when I feel GOOD, but when I feel BETTER. 100% freshy-freshness for everything.
Not counting the blips of running on Saturday, I’m on Day #9 of running exile. I’m managing alright, although the warm pre-dawn weather is really singing loudly, “la la la, let’s run, tra la la, it’ll be fun, do wop dee do, let’s race the sun.” Fortunately my shipmates have securely tied me to the mast.
Sunny isn’t too pleased, however, and misses her morning excursions.
Every dog has her day, as the saying goes, and Sunny’s will be next Saturday for the Dog Jog at Country Park in Greensboro. We’ll run the 3K course as fast as we can, which I think will be around eleven minutes. If there’s even the tiniest hint of anything resembling anything other than complete 100% freshy-freshness, I’ll take an additional week off.
In the meantime, I need to practice my planks. There’s a pushup contest after Owl’s Roost, and the race director let me compete even though I didn’t race. He started to inform me that I wouldn’t be eligible for the prize if I won, but then took a look at my spindly arms and saw no need. The competition was a bunch of dudes (ladies went next) doing pushups and planks simultaneously according to the sadistic direction of the race director. My arms were shaking like crazy, and I was the second guy out. And I didn’t even race! Sad.