I went for a run today on the treadmill. (I like watching “The Walking Dead” while I run and go nowhere. It seems appropriate for the brainlessness of the treadmill.) It was my first run since I felt the pain of plantar fasciitis appear six miles into my easy, seven mile, recovery-week run on Sunday. Even though I didn’t feel any pain this morning when I got out of bed (the time when it’s usually worst) I only ran three easy miles. I don’t want to push my recovery.
And tomorrow morning, I’m going back to the pool for the first time since last Friday. I had such a great swim a week ago that I planned to write that evening about how awesome it was. Except, by the time the evening rolled around, I couldn’t raise my left arm high enough without pain to use the computer. After five days off, I probably could have gone back yesterday, but I didn’t want to push that either.
Being injured was hard. Being doubly injured was ten times worse. I’m so happy to be well enough to get back to training. *touch wood*
(I’m not a superstitious or magical-thinking thinking kind of person, though I am known to indulge in two things. When things are going really well, I don’t like to talk about it. Everything could suddenly change. Why? Hubris, of course. It’s best to just keep going quietly as long as things are going well, all the while expecting that bad things could happen at any moment. . . . I also throw salt over my shoulder when I spill some, because throwing salt is fun.)
Friends, I am not good at being injured. The first few days were the most difficult. On Monday, I definitely had my cranky pants on. I tend to arrive at the worst possible conclusions: I’ll be injured for a long time; I won’t be able to do the events that I’ve signed up for; I won’t be able to achieve my goals; I won’t be able to be who I want to be. I’m a very goal-oriented person, and I derive a lot of my self-worth from setting and meeting them. (Lisa and I debate whether or not this is not a good way of thinking. At any rate, I need to remember to take the long view.)
I’m trying to be better at handling the occasional injury, and I feel grateful that each of my recent issues were very minor in the great scheme of things. And I need to start working on my injury prevention.
So what was I going to write on Friday? Given that I already injured myself, there’s no fate to tempt by talking about how great my swim on Friday was.
I’m not very fast yet, but I’m consistent during my workouts. I also think I’m improving my technique: I have started to feel my catch more, and I’m starting to see how to generate power during my stroke. Despite these improvements—which may or may not have caused my shoulder problem—I was starting to wonder whether I was actually getting faster or not. After all, the whole point of working on technique is to reduce my times, and I was much faster in the open-water over the summer than I ever have been at the pool. But what about my times just at the pool?
I went back to the historical record (a.k.a., mapmyrun.com). Turns out, I am swimming faster—and not just a little. Last Friday, I swam a bit over a mile at 36:12/mile pace. That’s two minutes faster than on Halloween and more than three minutes faster than just before my first triathlon. At this time last year, I swam at a 43:00/mile pace . . . and I wasn’t even going a full mile. This is a great trend, and I hope to keep it going. (And for the record, the first time I went to the pool, I swam six lengths in twenty-five minutes. That’s 277 minutes per mile.)
See you at the pool!