I've begun notes for a piece of writing: Rime of the Ancient Marathoner.
It seems apropos these days. Especially after having tweaked a hamstrung muscle in my right leg while training in the Bois de Boulogne last month.
A week later, after it seemed much better, I reinjured the same muscle running Sur La Grande Jatte.
Since then, while I should've been doing physical therapy in the hopes of building up my miles in the way that I need to in order to run in the Brooklyn Marathon in 88 days on Sunday, Nov. 15, I've taken to managing my training on my own.
Not wise, maybe. But I'm taking it easy. Slowing down to a 10-minute mile pace on the treadmill, gradually going up to 9:30, 9:20 ...
So far, after almost a month since the Bois Breakdown, I'm back up to 35 minutes. At about a 9:40 pace, more or less.
Slow but sure.
As will be that writing project: The Rime of the Ancient Marathoner. A poem, perhaps not a race.
Time will tell.
Next: Running for Your Life: If the Greats Were With Us Thursday
