I’m back baby! Well, sort of. Determined to get in a good run this week, I took the whole week off. I rolled on my foam roller, did some low-impact strength training and had a two-hour intensive massage.
After last week’s failure, I decided to take the run indoors to the treadmill. Not my preference, but the weather was gross, and if I failed again, I could just stop and do something else.
I planned to run a glorious 5K. Don’t push it, I thought.
But I couldn’t help myself. I ended up running just over 10K. I just got into the zone and it felt so good to be back. My knee hurt a little, but it was nothing I couldn’t push through. I told myself I should stop at 5K, even though I felt fine. “You’re barely recovered, you dummy,” I thought to myself. “Don’t re-injure yourself.” I had a serious mental argument with myself. If anyone could have heard my internal dialogue, you would have for sure thought I was insane.
Practical me kept telling me to stop. Take it easy. Don’t push it. Don’t be a hero.
But competitive me kept saying, you can do this! You feel great! You’re hardly even sweating. Your knee is fine! Don’t be such a wimp. Keep going!
I’m paying for it a bit today. My knee is tender, but it’s not a total disaster. I can definitely tell I’m on the mend and I’m still feeling great from the rush of endorphins from last night’s 10K.
This is a perfect illustration of why non-runners think runners are insane. Even when we’re injured we can’t take a break. We’re addicted to endorphins. Without running, I feel horrible. Weak, lazy, anxious. After a few weeks off, I feel certain that I’ve lost all the muscle mass and endurance I accumulated while training for the marathon and I swear my calves are not as defined. “I’m not a runner anymore,” I think with dismay.
It’s crazy, I know. But I suppose if I’m going to be addicted to anything, this is certainly among the healthier vices.