It’s only a little lie… right?

Distance: 2 mi running, 1 mi walking

Time: Yes, I even timed it… 17:22 for the run.

Miles to go: 1994

…ok so I took the 1/4 mile off for the 2 1/2 miles I walked in the past two days.  I hate doing math…

This… was… an… honest… to… goodness… RUN!!!  W00T!!!!  Just me… on an old familiar trail.  I felt like I could have run more, but I don’t want to start back up too fast.

This comes out to an 8:41 pace.  Not bad for a 2 month layoff!  I could definitely feel it in my lungs, which is VERY unusual.  I may have pain everywhere else, but my lungs almost never get in the way.  I could definitely tell I had been off for a while.

My first half split was 4:30 and I managed to run negative splits from there on in.  I felt sluggish the whole way.  Like my turnover was about half of usual.  I felt a few twinges and I’m definitely sore, but nothing major.

Tomorrow I’m back on schedule with weightlifting and I might try to stretch a bit as well.  But I am definitely going to run on the way home.  There is a park conveniently located two exits up from me that has a 1.7 mile paved walking path around it.  I’m going for two laps…  we’ll see.  I had to take Advil this evening.

My follow up doctor’s appointment is Wednesday.  I’m going to give him my best “please let me run” sad, pouty face and NO… I’m not going to tell him I’m already running again.  I know… I know… I’m going straight to hell.  As long as I can take my running shoes…

Run… Interrupted…

Distance: 1.5 mi.

Time: No clue

Miles to go: 1996.25

Stupid mud…  That’s what the boy kept saying.  And he cursed it every time he had to ride through a puddle.  It slowed him down, he said.  It made it hard to pedal.  No amount of coaching or encouragement would help.  “Pedal faster up to the mud and then just pedal right through”… didn’t work.  “I can’t see the mud sometimes”, said he.  “Ride closer to the shoulder where less traffic has been and it’s a little bit higher”, says I.  That didn’t work either…  and so it went.

That was our “father and son” time.  The net result was that I now run too fast for him to keep up with (according to him) and his bicycle (a mountain bike) doesn’t “do well” in the mud…  Somewhere Gary Fisher just rolled over in his grave… if he’s dead…

One last mud puddle did him in and, as I was chatting with a familiar runner on the trail, the boy faded, stopped and broke down in tears…  *sigh*  I’ve spawned a wimp…  Anyway, I made him get off and walk and I pushed his bike the remaining mile and a quarter back to the car.  By the end of it his spirits were back up, due to some silliness (did I mention that 10 year old boys find flatulence EXTREMELY funny?  …at least, this one does…  Good thing for me I had back to back meals of beans and chili).  Sometimes ya gotta pick yer battles…  I could have yelled and been mad, but he was genuinely upset.  Why make it worse.  It just increases the chance that he WON’T go next time.  Not good.

I’m sure someday he will come in, fresh off a mountain bike ride, covered in mud, with a wild eyed grin and say something profound like “That was COOL… and I only bled TWICE!!!”  But until then…  *sigh*