This morning I was thrown into a van against my will.
The van had no windows and no seats. My eyes blinked at the darkness. There were already 2 other girls lying on the van's floor. I could tell from the dejected looks, there was no easy way out of here. I huddled against the wheel hub and prayed the driver would slow down so we wouldn't knock around. Over and over he stopped and threw other people in the van, mostly women. At first we didn't speak, we just stared at the floor, still in shock at how we got there. The van grew crowded and hot. The stench was unbearable. I wondered if we would ever get where we were going.
So, apparently, my body hates running. This is news to me. For I, or at least my heart and brain, love running. My body however, didn't get the message. And it's trying very hard to send me a message of it's own. Clearly.
I did not have a good long run today. Again. The goal was 20 and I started off strong. My head was in it, I was going to kick that 20 miles in the astronaut. Instead, it knocked me on my astronaut. Almost literally.
Around mile 11 my knee just gave out. It didn't hurt, but it wouldn't hold my weight. Unforch, my coach witnessed this and demanded that I sit on the curb. She whipped out her phone to call the SAG wagon. I pleaded with her not to. I was sure I could just walk it off. She would hear none of it. That's how I ended up in the crowded van. The agony of the SAG wagon.
I've rolled, iced and elevated my hip and knee. I'm hopeful that I'm not actually injured. My marathon is only 5 weeks away. This cannot be happening. Yet it happens to runners all the time. Gah. Can't I just wish it away?
I'm taking it easy today. Lunch at Red Robin might make me feel better. There is hardly an emptiness that steak fries can't fill.
I'm being dramatic. This I know. I'm planning on a strong 18 next Sunday and a visit to some type of smarty medical type person this week. I can't keep diagnosing myself on them internets! :o)
Keep you posted...