Depression now sets in

Week 4

Last Saturday dawned sunny and a bit milder, although windy and still cold.  But it is winter after all so I should be used to this by now. I was hoping the two days of rest would heal my left calf/Achilles enough so that I could make the 3 mile loop up Cary Street and back down Main but, alas, as soon as we warmed-up with jumping jacks I knew that familiar twinge would be my undoing.  I got the old iPod going and found my rhythm around the morass as we headed into a pretty stiff headwind.  My hands needed gloves and my calf needed more rest, but I am stubborn and pushed through the dull ache determined to make a good showing.  Running into the wind is tiring.  This was not as easy as last week and the slight uphill grade for the outward portion of the loop had my breathing labored fairly quickly.  At least the homeward bound portion was slightly downhill so I had hopes that I'd get this run in regardless of the increasing agony.

Well, probably with a half-mile to go I knew I was done-for.  My iPod froze in the middle of a song and I stopped to walk to try and bang it into starting again.  No such luck.  So I stuffed the earphones in my pocket and started back up.  Bad idea.  Within 100 feet of doing so I felt the nagging twinge grow from an annoyance to a full blown OUCH!  I guess my calf thought I was done.  Problem was I was still a ways away from the finish, let alone my car.  My limp grew more and more pronounced as I hobbled down the brick sidewalk.  Everyone ended up passing me, some slowing to find out if I was ok.  A trainer asked about me and I related my past Achilles injury and how this felt like what my repaired tendon once felt like just before popping.  I simply cannot afford to have this one tear, too.

So in the end and after many respites along the way to rest my aching hips that had to compensate for my gimpy leg, I hobbled up the hill back to the Jefferson parking lot, past the water cooler and t-shirt stand and kept what little momentum I had straight to the car leaving my wife and two twenty-something friends wondering how bad off I really was.  I was never so happy to get to my car so I could finally sit down and never so depressed that my body had failed me in the simplest of tasks.  I suppose my legs just aren't supposed to support the gargantuan I have become.

I followed wifey's advice and RICE: rest, ice, compression and elevation.  This was only after I curled up in a sweaty ball and tried to sleep away my sadness.  When I awoke Staci got me situated on the couch before heading out to get her hair done.  After having my leg suffer some frostbite I took a shower and returned to my doldrums on the couch. Deep down I knew this was an inevitability since last Wednesday's snafu on the treadmill and my mood was telling leading up to Saturday's run.  I was definitely worried about a potential repeat involving a severed Achilles so, as all males do, I masked my fear with an ease-to-anger and a short temper.  Of course I don't consciously realize this subconscious survival tactic but everyone else around me did.  As all good wives do, she continuously asked me what was wrong and was obviously validated afterward.  Men are such hard-heads.  Sunday we took the dogs for a long walk in the park to enjoy the 60 degree weather and my legs and hips were still feeling it for having to compensate for my calf.  I was whipped by the time we got home.

So now I'm at a crossroads.  I obviously need to get this leg checked out and do something other than the training runs until I can log the miles without my calf shredding.   Swimming seems like an obvious choice.  Perhaps doing 30 minute to hour workouts in the pool will keep my stamina growing and maybe even help me shed some of this behemoth drinking gut.  I'm running out of ideas to try and get back to a normal weight.  Diets work at first but then get boring.  Staci cooks to well to forever be on a damn diet!  Weight lifting bores me without someone else to do it with.  I seem to hurt myself running.  I must me a complete doofus for that to happen!  I'm getting too aged to play any sports I like obviously now that I can't even do the simplest thing like run!

Perhaps I am just destined to be a once-upon-a-time athlete.  That is too depressing even to think of, let alone write about.