Yesterday was the sort of day I used to love running in. It was 55 degrees and raining – not just misting: a drenching, soaking sort of rain. I haven’t been running much, maybe twice a week – things have not been good, I’ve been thinking about surgery more and more – but I wanted to run. I never know which run will be my last. The one before this one wasn’t noteworthy, and damnit, I wanted to run in the woods, in the mud, in the rain.
My little loop is only 5.3 miles. As is my custom, as I ran I fantasized about secretly getting into race shape, nibbling away at the fringes, then all the sudden returning to top form in some big race – surprising everyone, and shoot, somehow the British guy from the Penn Relays is there to give the play by play for my local 5K.
I plodded through the mud, then got back on the road, and gave it an honest sort of effort. As cars whizzed by, dousing me with water and bemused glances, I thought to myself, “these people think I’m still a real runner. There’s no way they could know differently.” In the sopping rain, I didn’t feel like a Sunday jogger fraud, I felt like I belonged out there, like I owned the roads because only people who love the roads, who love the woods visit on days like yesterday. I was proud to be me, gliding through the soup with little more than a slight hitch in my stride.
Within an hour of finishing, I couldn’t put weight on my left foot. The achilles was worse than it’s ever been. It throbbed all night, I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t even stretch my foot to a right angle without a blast of pain. I parked as closely as I could and peg-legged into work, sad in my heart, wishing I had thought to put the damn boot on so that I could at least roll myself forward.
But if that run was the last run, at least I’ll remember it. I’m thankful for the drenching rain, for the three inches of mud, for the 5 pound soggy shoes, for the people that don’t know any better when they see me run down the road…unaware that you might as well just take me out to pasture and shoot me.
Been there and done that. I know exactly how you feel right now. I remember my last hard effort. Afterwards both my achillis tendons swelled so big that I couldn’t wear shoes for days. I walked around and went to classes bearfoot. But just the other day I ran 400m. After about 300m I felt that warm feeling. That being, the champion within, still lives and thrives on moments like these. When I finished my lap I could tell that I couldn’t stop smiling. People just thought that I was happy. They have no idea.