Folly or Feasible?

I ran yesterday, for the first time in two weeks. I was surprisingly excited to be going out.

Let me repeat that: I, KBT, was actually looking forward to going for a run.

It was around 70 degrees, which I’m used to, but very low humidity, which I’m not, so I really didn’t want to waste such a gorgeous day. I had no plans when I left, unsure even which direction I’d go. Given that it was around 10 am, that ruled out running along the main road — though that’s a long flat stretch I like — because there was just too much chance of being seen by too many people I know on their way to Mass. Neighborhood roads, just to stay safe.

I walked half a mile for my warm-up, then started the run. Normally it takes me the better part of a mile to settle into a rhythm (one reason I’ll never be a big fan of the 5K), but I hit my stride almost immediately. Unfortunately, my stride was ungodly painful … let’s all give a warm welcome to the Inside of My Right Knee. Clearly, he’d heard how much fun Mr. Back of My Right Knee was having and decided to join the party. Except the Back rarely interferes while I’m running, whereas the Side was making a grand entrance.

I thought about stopping, wondered if I probably shouldn’t, since the pain was making me run even funnier than normal in an attempt to find a foot position that didn’t make it hurt. After a couple of minutes, though, it mostly subsided. When it flared up again a bit later I realized it was from going downhill, which is how my run had started. Fortunately (or unfortunately, as I tend to think of it) there was no more downhill, so mostly no more pain.

I thought both my lungs and my legs were holding up fairly well, considering how long it had been. My major fear had been a return to agony of Week 1 proportions.

My Garmin beeped, and I made the mistake of looking at it to see why. I’m pretty sure the why is because I set it that way before the US 10K Classic and haven’t really used it much since. And why I looked is because that’s a natural reaction to something beeping on your arm when you’re not expecting it. The problem with this? I discovered I had run a mile at 12:32 mm.

Well, that was the end of that. The mind wins out yet again. There may well be ruts in the pavement from me screeching to halt. Twelve-thirty-two is fast for me. Yes, I was whining to myself the whole way, but that’s just par for the course. I had just crested a slope and was cruising into a long flat stretch that should have been no real problem. And I expected to be running it.

Until I looked.

Note to self: never look.

And then I walked. I did have a brief attempt to start running again. That lasted all of one minute.

The time on the couch showed during those last 10 minutes as I trudged along toward home. I was truly worn out by then. I reminded myself, though, that last time I felt like this I had 3.5 miles left in the Peachtree — and the rest of a big hill — as opposed to a fairly flat stroll for just half a mile. Even walking it would all be over relatively soon.

After which it was back on the couch.