I Told You So

Despite the diagnosis of post tibial tendonitis--more an irritant than an actual ailment--I decided to continue a modified training regimine which culminated in an 8K race early this morning. Five miles is a pretty standard run for me . . . when I'm not injured. The nagging ankle limited any kind of distance running--5 miles--to twice a week. The rest of the week I trained on the treadmill or exercise bike. Coupled with ice massage and some light resistance exercises, the pain subsided considerably. Still, I'm not anywhere near the running shape I was in at the end of July and I had some doubts about how the race would go.

Early in the month, I set a goal of hitting the 40 minute mark for the race. I figured an eight minute per mile pace was quite reasonable, even with an injury. I tried running five miles in 40 minutes on the treadmill earlier this week and failed. Spirit crushed, I resigned myself to simply running my best and letting my time fall where it might. Go, me! Bleh.*

The 5 AM wake up? Brutal. I rolled out of bed, pulled on my running clothes, ate a half cup of honey nut scooters (Malt-O-Meal honey nut cheerios) and raisins, drank 8 oz of water, and a couple cups of coffee. Once Dr. OneDink and I arrived at the race location and picked up our goodie bag and strapped on our electronic timing chips, I warmed up with a moderate 10 minute run. The ankle twinged now and again, but felt decent. Was it 100 percent? Not even close; I may not ever be at 100 percent in that ankle (my hip and knee are never quite pain free--the pains come and go ::shrug::). The race started, Dr. OneDink and parted company, and I dropped into a brisk, yet comfortable, pace. At about the 1st mile, many of the runners started to fall back. Before long, I realized I had run my way toward the front of the racing pack. Was I with the elite runners? Ha! Was I with the advanced runners? I'd like to think so. The course itself was flat, flat, flat and the surface of the race posed the only real problem: concrete and pavement. Talk about unforgiving.

At about the halfway mark the cold morning air started hammering away at my asthma. Yes, a couple hits of the inhaler are part of my daily running routine and this morning was no exception. Typically, breathing isn't a problem. I'm sure it was both the cold air and the fact that I was running beyond my training that lead to the difficulties. Refusing to slow down, I sucked it up and ran through the mild wheezing. It was painful but not unmanageable.

At the four mile mark (only one mile to go), I tried to kick it up a notch and had no juice left in the tank. All I could do was maintain my pace. I didn't slow down, but had nothing left for that little extra push. So I continued apace, watching three runners I would normally beat pass me in the last half mile. As I turned the final corner and started toward the finish line, I glanced at the time clock and surprised myself with a 37:20 finish (7:04 mile pace). Exhausted, I looked around for my anticipated cheering section. STK and TLO were nowhere to be found. I celebrated my better-than-expected race in solitude. Which was okay, really. I enjoyed a good cool down, a banana, and half a chocolate chip bagel--the free chow is one of the great things about races--before my fan club arrived. This is the second time STK misjudged the time to be back at a race finish line (I even suggested she should be back at the course after 35 minutes, just to be safe). We've decided that our tradition will be for she and TLO to be at the start of the race and always miss the finish. I seem to do better than expected when they're not waiting.

The final results: I finished 29th overall, 26th among men, and 4th in my age group. Not bad for a rapidly approaching middle age guy running on a bad ankle, I think. I'm paying for it tonight--the ankle hurts more than it has in weeks and I'm limping noticeably. And it's worth every twinge of pain. There's another race coming up on October 21--I wonder if I can eek another few weeks out of the ankle?

*I'm not the most competitive person in world . . . when it comes to others. Competitive with myself much? That's another story altogether.