Back in the Saddle
Saturday, August 16th, 2008
Running is like riding a horse: There is no way to get in shape for it except to do it. When I get back in the saddle after a long period away from riding, I’m guaranteed to have sore inner thighs and a stiff lower back the next day. Same with running: No matter how much I prepare to run through cross training and physical therapy, there is no substitute for actually running and no way to avoid running’s version of back-in-the-saddle soreness. For the past two-plus months while injured, I’ve cross-trained religiously on the stationary bike and elliptical, plus did upper- and lower-body strength training and physical therapy on my lower legs. As soon as I got out of the cast, I adopted a daily routine of PT exercises such as heel raises, step-downs, and range-of-motion and balance movements to re-engage the stiff and atrophied right ankle. In spite of that, I experienced all the soreness of a newbie as I started running slowly and carefully these past two weeks, building up in 10-minute increments at the track. My Achilles tendons screamed, my hamstrings protested, and long-dormant shin splints flared up. I’m sure that rapidly approaching 40 has something to do with it; the body loses its elasticity and fluidity. I need WD40 for all my joints.
Now, if someone asks, “Are you back to running?” I will say “sort of” because I had my first “real” run off the track yesterday – but I still feel so stiff, slow, and cautious that I don’t feel like “a runner.” I completed 3.5 miles through our neighborhood on the Turkey Trot course, the hilly Thanksgiving 3-mile race route that gives a tour of some of Piedmont’s most scenic streets. The halfway point climbs up Sea View, where 100-year-old mansions and liquid amber trees line the course. I have won the Turkey Trot in years past, and there is a fire hydrant halfway up Sea View that I know I have to reach in under 14 minutes in order to cross the finish line in under 20. My plan during the Turkey Trot race is to run the flat stretches sub-6:20, the downhills around 5:45, and slow to about a 7-min pace on the uphills so that I can finish in 19:10 – 19:40. Needless to say, I know this route intimately. But the person who ran it yesterday was barely recognizable as the person who races the Turkey Trot. I jogged the first mile at around a 10-minute pace because the right Achilles and the peroneus tendons flared up and had to be coaxed into loosening up. The injured area — the navicular bone and ligaments on the top of the foot — felt okay at first and then started to feel generally weak. The questions and concerns that flooded my mind made it almost impossible to enjoy any aspect of the run. Am I going to reinjure? How much does my ankle hurt on a scale of 1 – 10? Is my knee flaring up now too?
I rounded the corner of Sea View and started the climb. To run a hill — now that felt good! My legs and ankles began cooperating, my heart rate picked up, and I felt a shade closer to my old self. I didn’t check my time or pace at the fire hydrant marker because I didn’t want to know — and didn’t care. I was back to running through this neighborhood, and that pushed thoughts of pain and injury aside.
I was ready to stop after a half-hour. The injured area had started talking to me, telling me not to push it. I listened.
I don’t know if I’ll run the Turkey Trot race 3 months from now — it’s hard to imagine being in 5K race shape by then — but if I do, I will remember this come-back run, and if it takes a lot longer than 20 minutes to finish the race, so be it. I will give thanks that I’m able to do it at all.
Tags: Add new tag, ankle injury, Piedmont, Running