Timing is hilarious: last night, just when I was realizing that the feeling from that tendon was about equal parts "turning a set of rusty gears" and "waking up an old injury", I get an email from the Boston Run to Remember, letting people know that, at bib pick-up, if they want to switch to the 5-mile course (which takes off at the same time), they can at no charge.
I woke up today feeling maybe 65% in my left knee. Not the agony I was in when I first injured it, but not exactly ready to do a cha-cha or any high kicks anytime soon. The type of 65% that tells me that I could easily run a 5-miler with only minor setbacks in healing -- but a 13.1 course would result in me potentially collapsing in pain by the 9-mile mark.
So while there is a really good chance that I'm still running this race, there is also a really good chance that, at bib pick-up, I'll be asking to switch over to the 5-mile.
Part of me is frustrated. Part of me is relieved. And part of me recognizes how funny it is that I consider "only running 5 miles" to be a downsize.
I mean, people train to run 5 miles. People train to run 5 kilometers. And I ran just a hair under 5K (and by "a hair" I mean I ran roughly 4) yesterday as a test run. Five miles used to be my "well I got to get some type of run in" distance, my "I haven't run in a few weeks so I should take it easy" run.
And now it's my "well I'm injured so I should probably take it easy" run.
I know that this sounds like a gigantic pat of the back for me, touting my oh-so-amazing athletic ability in comparison to those peasants with average levels of athleticism. But this is the type of pat on the back you give said athlete when they lose a close game. A, "there, there, let's focus on the positives." The consolation that, even though you aren't in the finals, you played one hell of a series and, hey, at the end of the day, you're still the Boston Bruins.
Hmm. Guess I still have the Bruins/Habs series on my mind.
And, like I said before, I recognize that running this race when I'm not 100% will most likely result in undoing some of the healing. And I've conceded that, after this race, I cannot even think about signing up for a race -- let alone train for one -- for a good, long while. Upwards of a month, maybe even two. Which throws the Chicago Marathon for an absolute loop (my goal was 20 miles by the end of June, so I could spend the hot summer months "taking it easy" before upping my game again in September).
I know this race is all I'm talking about right now, but, hey, it is what's on my mind, and I'm going to write about it. Because I still have roughly 80 more days for this blog and I can't wax philosophical on the human experience in every post.