|This guy has kept me running, and I am grateful.|
Yesterday, I escorted the middle school orchestra to Cedar Point for the annual Music In The Parks competition. My son plays bass. The good news is that all groups -- the orchestra, chamber orchestra and band -- had superiors ratings and took first place in their division. They all received a trophy for overall excellence!
The band news is that after a full day in the park I was in bed shortly before midnight. Four hours of sleep. And though there was no snow, it was a cool, slightly damp day. Perfect temperature, but my feet were wet. My feet were wet yesterday. I want dry feet every day from now until I die.
Official Time: 2:01:37.01
Avg. Pace: 9:17
Place Men 45-49: 81
Personal Best Half: 01:41:21 (Cleveland 2016)
Somewhere during the race I told Chris that I had already forgotten everything that had happened that morning, and would tomorrow have forgotten everything yet to come. It was a strange thing to realize, but it is mostly true. Unlike previous races in which I work very hard to recall details to set down for memory, I was just running my way through this one -- making jokes, for sure -- but just kind of dazed.
Four hours of sleep will do that to a person. So will pain.
The fact is, I ended this race feeling depressed. I had pain shooting down not one but both buttocks. I could feel it in my spine. I imagined that if I had attempted the full 26.2 I would develop serious back pain. Also, my right knee started to get sore. I felt like a mess.
We tried to keep up with the two hour group, we weren't looking to achieve greatness, but it was impossible. A 9:17 pace is actually a good average for what Chris and I had been making through our training.
I have to admit, I didn't train very well, in general. But then, what I was really trying to do was be able to run long distances and still have a daily life devoid of limping. In that I have been successful.
I keep telling myself I am just exhausted. Allie gave me a suggestion for a chiropractor and I must seek that out. I need to do something.
This happened ten years ago, as I was about to turn forty. My knee blew up and I wondered if I would ever run again. I had an operation, and I have been running fine ever since. Then I fucked up my back a little over three years ago, and the condition is getting worse.
I love running. Running has made getting older bearable. It is a source of pride and achievement, and it makes me feel so good. I am afraid of ever giving it up.