Saturday, April 10, 2010

The Road to Boulder.

During the week, I do several short runs of 2-4 miles max. Maybe three times a week. On Saturdays, I save myself for the "long" runs.

Runners use the term long runs to describe mileage put in, typically in training, for a race that involves some distance. Let's say you're training for a marathon. Long runs are typically over ten miles..I think they usually peak at 20 or so.. in prep for a 26 mile race later on.

At my stage of running, a long run is anything over 5 miles. These days, my long runs, have been about 6 miles or so. The thing is.. I think I can do more. Something weird happens around mile 4. I think I stop feeling anything. If I could balance the rest of my life better, I bet I could do a 10 mile Saturday run. Trouble is.. there's always a million things to do on Saturdays, and I'm already beginning the run at 7:30.

But.. getting back to the concept of numbness..

Case in point. My first road injury of the season. Mile 4. Straight road. Hit a bumpy patch of concrete. Look out below!!

Fell. Of course. Because I am the biggest clutz in the world. Went down on the pavement and scratched skin. Skinned knee and some flesh off hand. Nice thing was, I was so warmed up from running, most of the blood had been routed to my brain, so all internal organs and skin were running on empty anyway. I truly did not feel a thing. My running companion valiantly offered to walk the rest of the distance, and I said, "no, way."

Trust me, I'm a huge baby.. but I did not feel anything. I looked down occasionally, and saw some blood, but ya know.. "It's just a flesh wound."

Later, however.. as the skin began scabbing up.. my knee literally began buckling in pain. I think I could almost feel the flesh began to crimp up and start scabbing on itself. Ouch.

11:00 pm.. and the knee has swollen up and I can't bend it without cringing. Damn. On the positive side. Garmin tells me I burned over 600 calories with this run.


Welcome warm weather!

It's for medicinal purposes, I assure you. It dulls the pain. Ahem.
Post a Comment