Tuesday, June 21, 2005
It feels like the first time
|4?||42 mins.||Home - LP - Fishermans Wharf R/T||11ish min./mi.|
Two weeks had passed since I last ran. Two weeks since I laced up my shoes. Two weeks since I donned the special padded socks.
But last week, I gained admission to the New York City Marathon, and if I'm going to run in the presence of such luminaries as Chelle and Derek not to mention The Donald, P-Diddy, J-Lo and, hopefully, the surviving members of the Wu-Tang Clan, then I better get my, um, stuff together.
It's time, once again, to get serious. And this morning's run was a reminder of how difficult that might be. So much hurt in so little time. First, on the short downhill five blocks from my apartment to the ocean, it was my left knee. By a half mile or so, I was huffing and puffing like the Big Bad Wolf at the Hormel abatoir. My heart screamed for attention, my lungs grasped for air like a rockclimber's hand hanging from a precipice.
I stopped to stretch halfway through. Turning around, my legs felt leaden. A half hour passed and I had no relief from the cario-pulmonary pummeling I was taking. Would I ever warm up? Didn't I run 10-12 relatively easy miles earlier this month?
Apaprently not. It was bad until the end. Pain, my old pal, how I've missed ya. It's nice to have you back.