an update

Guess what?! I don’t think I pulled a muscle. Freakin’ hooray.

I’m sore today, but sore like I made my legs do something unfamiliar yesterday, not sore like I did something really bad and injured myself big time.

I guess two hours of on-and-off stretching and icing worked or something. ;)

I’m taking a rest day today, nonetheless, just to make sure I’m not serving up more than I can handle. (Which, currently, isn’t much.)

In the spirit of recuperation, I pulled on my new compression socks when I got home from work:

Sorry I keep taking photos of myself in my kitchen. Making a mental note to try for other locales.

Have you tried compression socks? They feel sooo good. It took me a minute to like them. At first, it’s like wearing hosiery and jumping five decades in age. But pretty soon you’ll be oohing and aahing and doing an extra load of laundry just to get these puppies clean and back on your legs. They hold everything in place and ease tight calves in a way that stretching alone can’t.

But, man, they’re pricey. I got mine from Pro Compression and thankfully used a discount code from SkinnyRunner. (Talk about someone who can pile on the miles — in the last 9 days, she ran 161 miles. ONE HUNDRED SIXTY-ONE MILES in NINE DAYS. Using her legs, people, not a bicycle. She’s basically my new running idol.)

In other news, remember when I lost my ID while running? Some kind soul found it while she was running, and it arrived in my mailbox today. So, thank you, Rachel in Portland, whoever you are! You’ve saved me a trip to the DMV, and that deserves more than a little applause.

What sorts of unexpected things came your way today?

I ran 100s … and maybe pulled a muscle?

Monday’s workout: Bike ride to work (2.6 miles — and I’m not really counting this as part of the workout, but, hey, it’s activity) and a jog/track/jog workout

• Distance: 2.1 mile jog from my office to the track; 1 mile at the track, sprinting the straight-aways, jogging the curves … for a total of 8 100-meter sprints (duh — it just sounds nice to me to quantify it); 3 mile jog home. Total distance: 6.1 miles
• Details: Start elevation – 98 ft, Max elevation – 203 ft, Gain – 138 ft
• Time: didn’t time it

On the days I don’t feel super motivated to run, I tell myself, You can go as slow as you want. Just do it. I had to tell myself that today.

I rode my bike to work and packed running clothes in my backpack — and wore my running belt around my waist while I rode, and I thought I looked really hardcore (more like really dorky):

Sure, it's totally normal to take pictures of yourself in the company bathroom.

But, by the end of the work day, I wasn’t really feeling the run. I thought about just biking home. And then I thought about this blog and how I need to be accountable to it, and so I convinced myself to run with the stipulation that I wouldn’t time myself (no pressure!).

It was over 80° when I started (80° after 5:30 pm in Portland in April?! I know), but I started to get into a groove. I was hoping the people in the cars going by where thinking, DAMN, she’s tough to run in this heat! I think they were probably thinking, DAMN, she’s really slow.

At the track, I planned to sprint 8 x 100 meters (which I haven’t done since high school), and I was definitely, well, too eager. There were a bunch of middle schoolers there, having track practice, and I thought maybe I could smoke those 12-year olds. Um, no. (Some of those boys are seriously fast.) I went out too fast on my first sprint (IDIOT!) and felt a quick little pop in my right quad. OOPS.

It wasn’t so bad that I couldn’t finish the sprints, but I had to slow down — and I could feel it the whole time. Just kind of there and nagging. Is this a minor pulled muscle? Is this something else? (I hope it’s something else.)

I rolled up my running capris, hoping to mimic compression shorts and keep the muscle held in place.

It's worth a shot, right?

The jog home was a little uncomfortable, but not too painful, and by then it was about 5° cooler, so pretty ideal running weather.

Now I’m stretching and icing and hoping for the best. And sort of dreading going to bed and laying idle for eight hours. It’s better to be moving around — I worry about what this will feel like tomorrow.