Note to Never Take Myself Too Seriously

Last week I had a hard slogging run through the streets of New Orleans. I've had tough runs before and I'm seasoned enough to chalk one uncomfortable run up to "one of those" runs and move on. It was the humidity, the time change, my travel-weary body.

Back in Brooklyn, another tough run. I managed to eek out the promised ten miles but slow and plodding. My legs felt tired and my breathing heavy. Odd. Two in a row.

Then, after dropping the kids at the bus this morning, I set off for a five mile run. Immediately I felt tightness in the back of my upper thigh. Tempted to stop and go home and rest and stretch, I instead kept at it and soon the tingling pain eased up somewhat. But again, there was little ease in those five miles despite the beautiful spring morning. 

So here is the mid-run—without a touch of irony—conversation I had with myself this morning: 

1. MILE ONE:  Maybe I need to seriously this time pay attention to my body and do some cross training. It is ALWAYS my right leg and the PT told me my hip flexors needed work and for years I have ignored all of the signs because...I can run marathons but I'm too lazy to do leg lifts?!
2. MILE TWO:  Running is over for me. It was a good stretch, but now it's over. Sure I'm still passing people in the park, but the signs are written on the wall. All downhill from here. Funny that it happened like flipping a switch, but maybe that's how it happens.
3. MILE THREE: I obviously can't run the Brooklyn Half.
4. MILES FOUR AND FIVE: There is something seriously wrong with me. I must schedule a physical exam and get blood work. Were the antibiotics ineffective after the ticks of last summer? Something even worse?

After five miles I headed home and texted a running buddy this message:  "Wow. Five really tough miles. Beautiful but can't get to easy last bunch of runs." His reply? "Congrats. How are the shoes? Perhaps wearing down." 

Not sure how I failed to note during my run that I have been telling myself for weeks to replace the sad, tired Sauconys that have happily accompanied me over hundreds of miles.

So maybe I'm not through. And maybe I'm not dying any time soon. And maybe I will run the Brooklyn Half Marathon in 10 days.

Heading out this evening for a long overdue running shoe shopping trip (And yes, I should cross train too).