In a post about a month ago I let it be known that as a
running pair Thurber and I were back. After one successful outing with my
redbone coonhound running partner, I was bound and determined to get out there
in the park at least once a week. Back to, yes, Running for Your Life !
That was then. Just over a week later, on a five-minute lope
around the park with a considerably more rambunctious hound (ie, jerking on the
leash, suddenly dead-stopping on the road in front of me and generally messing with
my head), I felt a twinge in my left hip. Two days later the pain really set in.
Yep, after months of physical therapy to correct a gimpy knee, I was on the
shelf again. Unable to run.
Until today (March 2)! While I didn’t see a doctor, I’ve
enough running experience to know what is what. I suffered a mild hamstring
pull, and while my mobility now is hardly one hundred percent, I can run. That is,
I can jog. Slow but sure. And today I went out for 45 minutes and felt no pain
at all.
The trouble with slow is I want to go fast. I’m fit enough
to go fast. But, when it comes to running for my life, I have to get it in my
head that I can’t keep up with a spry coonhound on a five-mile run (maybe, a
controlled run, say about 10-15 minutes. Frankly, though, even that’s probably
not a good idea ...)
Do I want to run well into my sixties, my seventies? Then I’d
better get a grip on the trouble with slow. To jog instead of run all out. To
pay much better attention to any nagging pain, to not push it when the muscles
are crying: “Slow down. Stop already!”
May Thurber enjoy his morning runs in the park with his pals
– other dogs, that is. We might get back out soon. If he could read this blog,
I know he would understand.
Next: Running for Your Life: If the Greats With Us Thursday
