Eeyore

Who in their right mind would portray a good friend, a friend who has inspired and encouraged them to train with a hint of madness in their eye, a friend who on more then one occasion you’ve shared a pint with… who would portray a good friend as eeyore? Needless to say, I did, and for longer then I already care to remember I’m not going to forget it. Today, the CBC piece aired on the radio… tomorrow I’m going to take the back stairs into work and labor feverishly with my head low.

Lying on my stomach, unaware of what was about to occur, my life seemed calm. It was calm, then, in a matter of nanoseconds my pain-o-meter shot from zero to threshold and proceeded to redline. I tried to breath, hoping the pain would subside, surely it would subside? The second time was only worse, I knew what was coming; without realizing I’d pushed myself up into an arch, the perfect cobra. And, I was paying for this. I received my second ART session today. D’Arcy laid into my calves, as if she was a starving child trying to squeeze the last morsel of chocolate icing from a tube. I’m not sure how long the sitting was, but it seemed an eternity. The first time she manipulated me was days before the Comox Half-marathon and since then I don’t remember having the twinge in my hamstring… I guess I’ll take the good with the bad.

My run this afternoon felt liberating, although I’d gone 12 rounds in a title fight, at least I won; my stride length seemed elongated, even a fraction of an inch over 26 miles would make a difference. I ran a variation of Thursday’s route, building into it after 25’. I felt smooth, relaxed, not quite as good as last time but good nonetheless.

P.s. Jim, I owe you yet another pint…

Training: a progressive run, 1:04:16