FRAH-JEEEEEEL-AAAAYYY

There's no denying it. Mrs. Greyhound is a lucky woman. After 20 years of marriage, she's received a "major award."

Me.

**blink***

Uhm, yeah. And I must be Italian because I come in a box marked "FRAH-JEEEL-AAAY."

Oh, wait. That's "Fragile."

Which means on Valentine's Day, instead of emitting my typical romantic glow, I was gimping around with a shredded back from the most inconsequential of long rides after the most unremarkable bike wreck ever.

But I literally couldn't reach down and get my paper on the driveway this morning because of the condition of my lower back.

Because I am "Frah-jeeel-aaaaay."

So, yeah. I'm quite the reward, aren't I?

I Need A Vacation

"Listen to your body."

That's what they always say. Of course, if we listened to our bodies, we would never run a lick, let alone race, because running and racing cannot be accomplished without ignoring discomfort. A certain amount of "mind over matter" is the cost of admission.

But yesterday, my body said, "enough with the running, already." Fatigue and aches that could be ignored suddenly turned into acute dysaesthesia of the distal tibialis anterior.

For all those readers who are not Iron Jane, M.D., the meaning, in plain English, roughly translates as follows:

The lower outside part of my shin hurt like a MoFo.

Suddenly, 18 miles in to a planned 20+ miler, the wheels came off: sharp pain associated with landing and toe-ing off. I walked, tried again, and again it happened. So, I walked it in.

It hurt all afternoon when I walked or flexed my foot, then without explanation it completely disappeared.

WTF? Anybody know an injury that hurts like a MoFo and then just evaporates? But for the "disappearing pain" it sounds like shin splints. But who gets shin splints after completing 4 marathons and two Ironmans? Honestly. Isn't that the injury you get as a beginner?

**Insert healthy dose of overinflated, fitter-than-thou ego here**

Could it be that I've run a bit too much on the horrible, hard, uneven surfaces of the marathon course?

Could it be that my program needed a bit more in the way of recovery for a "man my age?"

Could it be that I need some more padding and arch support for my freakishly high arches?

Could it be that when you switch from triathlon to marathon training, there's just SO MUCH MORE FREAKING RUNNING INVOLVED?

Could it be that I neglect my nutrition and recovery for simple running workouts in a way that I would never do while doing Ironman two-a-days?

Uhm. Yeah. Maybe.

Possibly.

Probably.

Well, OK, yeah. Guilty.

But now, we are where we are. 33 days to the big dance and still more peak training to try to put hay in the barn. What to do?

Now that I feel ok, I am tempted to run ez this week and pick up where I left off next week. At the same time, if this is really an injury or a near injuyr, maybe a week of cross training is in order? I won't lose so much fitness that my goal is in doubt. Right?

And while I am obsessing in my self-absorbed little corner of hydrochondurbia, I should be just enjoying the life I still have. It is guaranteed beyond doubt that my mother will cite this article as precedent that I should not be running at all.

I hate reading stuff like that (or worse yet knowing people about whom such stuff is written). You can't help reading an article about a death at a marathon and without asking, "why?" And even as you ask it, you know there is no answer coming. Indeed, there are no words at all, and any attempt at an answer sounds cheap, sacharine, and empty. Why? I don't know. I can't know. But I do know this. Me and my mother--we both hurt when we get up out of bed in the morning, but mine's the good kind of hurt.

So. This week? I'll experiment with some ez running on controlled surfaces. If it hurts, time for cross-training. Beginning next week I try to get back on track with the program, substituting this week's harder distances for next week's easier ones. That said, no more running on uneven concrete. From here on in, it's crushed gravel Memorial Park, round and round like a gerble. No more marathon course for you.

Until . . . the day.

Goals: I Haz Dem

moar humorous pics

So, this weekend is the Austin Marathon and Half-Marathon. I have the half-marathon in my sidebar race schedule, but my goal is a big fat question mark.

Literally, it says "????"

It's not as if I don't have goals, it just seems like the dang little birds won't come down out of the tree where I can reach them.

See, I originally signed up for the marathon. It feels like it has been so long since I ran a good road race and was able to run hard. I thought that after Ironman Wisconsin, I could take a break and then build up for a good marathon time. I've gone 3:53:41 for the marathon, and I had hopes of going faster, especially since my long run times were comfortably averaging better than 9 minutes per mile.

Then, I ran a 5 k and the running gods decided to rip my left hamstring out of my a$$ cheek and tear my calf muscle to boot.



So, I changed the goal. Maybe I can run a reasonable half-marathon time.

Then, I mixed in some strength training, including squats.



My 41-year-old hips don't lie. They told me, "dude, you're 41 years OLD--REPEAT IT WITH ME, OLD!!!



"Sure, you could leg press the whole stack on the weight machine when you played soccer, but that was 25 years ago. Your left hip flexors, gluteus minimus, psoras major and your general groinal area are now on strike.

"Oh, and you've got a cold, so all that respiration you were counting on doing, forget it."

So, I changed the goal again. Maybe, I can finish if I run really slowly and carefully, if my heart doesn't explode, if I don't start bleeding from my ears and eyeballs, and if my head doesn't start spinning 360s while projectile vomit spews out of my mouth. After all, it's only a flesh wound.



"I'm INVINCIBLE!"

(all together now) "You're a looney."

I ran a little today, and I ran a little yesterday. Some of it was painful, and sometimes the offending areas loosened up OK. Doc says the joint is OK. It's just muscular soft tissue stuff. So, we'll just have to see, but if I go any slower, I feel like I'll be going backwards.

Below The Neck (SFW)

I have been accused of overtraining in the past, and occasionally the accusation may have been true. I do train a lot,as in consistently, day after day, but I really don't brutalize myself to any great extent. Indeed, I am a great lover of rest days, recovery food, naps, stretching, the foam roller, and most of all, I LURVES me a massage.

And if I am accused of overtaining recently, I would have to plead not-guilty. I have been bouncing back from workouts very well, taking it easy on my easy days, and recording good improvements.

Nevertheless, my body has decided to go on strike. I have a head cold, and my illiacus and psoas major issue loud complaints any time I try to run.



At least this is my working hypothesis, because I don't think I've been running enough volume to risk a stress fracture and the doctor's office will not call me back so that I can either see my primary care physician or skip that unnecessary step and go straight to the orthopod for a proper diagnosis. After said diagnosis, I hold out the vain hope that they will actually embark on a rehabilitation regime rather than the typical, sedentary, lazy medical practitioner approach, namely: don't exercise so much.

Well, gosh, Dr. Obvious. If I wanted to be a pudgy waste of carbon like you, I'd have done that long ago. Forgive me for thinking that the function of your profession was to get my body to function properly, even if my idea of "properly" is a bit more demanding than yours.

But I'm not bitter.

Really, I'm not.

At this rate I will have rehabbed myself before the doctor ever calls me back. It appears to be getting better and is a lot less painful than last Tuesday when I could hardly walk. The only worrisome feature is that there is now minor, cramping pain referring from the illiacus to a different region below the neck:





So, uhm. Yeah. The discomfort is very minor, but I feel it in a place that I consider to be very, VERY important, my left testicle. (By the way, this is just an illustration. Mine does not have those painful hooks and pins in it. And the genuine article is much much more impressive in real life. Really. I swear.)

Everything is improving steadily, but I hope I don't have a hernia or something that requires a total cessation of training. Yes, I'm stretching. Yes, I'm foam rollering. Yes, I've had a massage. Yes, yes, yes. Amateur medical opinions are welcomed, because I can't seem to get a professional physician to pay attention to me.

But no worries, because this weekend I was engaging in "best practices" for anyone coming down with a cold and suffering from a potential orthopedic injury. I was sleeping on the ground in damp, cool weather. You see, Friday and Saturday was a scheduled campout with Superpounce and the YMCA Trail Guides. And when it comes to dad duty, you just gotta rub some dirt on it and HTFU. No excuses. Get the job done. As a result, Superpounce thinks I am the master of all things native American because I was able to fashion a bow for her using only a hatchet, a green branch and some string.

Parenting is not for sissies. If it was easy, anyone could do it.

The weekend also worked out great due to tag-team parenting assist from Mrs. Greyhound. Friday and Saturday she got to watch Jane Austen to her heart's content. But, Sunday morning she met me at the campground driving my car with the bike on board. We tagged, traded kid duty, and I repaired to my favorite hills in Montgomery and Grimes Counties for a 60 mile ride with Jane and Kelly (who really needs to start blogging so I don't have to link to this silly and lame picture). I got to hammer some of my favorite hills, ride some nice tempo, and claw into some nice wind. By the way, this is totally an inside joke, but since Chau is currently so intoxicated with LURVE that she can't train, is the Chelly (i.e., Chau and Kelly) no more? Is it now the "Jelly" (i.e., Jane and Kelly)?

"But Greyhound," I can hear you saying, "you were getting sick. Why were you training?"

Overtraining? Not guilty. You know the rule, if your symptoms are above the neck, you are safe to train. Biking did not cause any pain, and my symptoms were above the neck . . . .

Until we were in the middle of the ride, and then I got a cough every time I stopped. So, my solution? Don't stop.

OK, so I'll have to plead nolo contendre with regard to the swim workout after the bike, but I took it easy. I promise.

And afterwards, it was pizza and beer for everyone chez greyhound. If you're in the area, you should come next time.

Ow!

So, after racing 140.6 miles (if you really want to call what I do "racing"), I have destroyed myself with the following:

1. One 5k race in 23:47.

2. One "speed" workout three days later consisting of 8x400 in about 1:40 ea.

3. One 5 mile fartlek run yesterday (7 days after the "speed") when I thought I was feeling better.

I know. Not terribly impressive. Lots of people can go way faster. But it was fun, and felt good . . . mostly. . . .

Now, my biceps femoris, (aka the my hamstring) is in complete rebellion. I groan when I bend over or need help getting up from a chair. I even woke in my sleep because it hurt last night.

In short, I am now 82 years old and have somehow skipped the 41 years between my post-Ironman birthday and the rest home.

"I'VE FALLEN . . . AND I CAN'T GET UP!"

I really had been enjoying running, my first love, and I REALLY wanted to try to run fast. I had signed up for a February marathon and I was going to give my all to achieve a PR. Now? All is in doubt. If I'm going to run fast in February, I need to be putting in time on my feet now.

Anybody have any magical cures for the bad hamstring that don't involve giving up speed work?

Maybe this is my body's way of telling me it's time to do that swim block or get on the bike trainer.

Rats.