weather: 49 ºF, mostly sunny, wind N/NE at 12 mph
mileage: today-2, week-12.7, year-132.0
resting (bpm): 61
after workout (bpm): 102
Used to be I had some hop in my step. In seventh grade I could get backboard. In eighth grade I got half way up the net. Ninth grade was supposed to be the year I would get to the rim. In the winter of that year I was playing volleyball in P.E. when my hop left. I went up for a block and came down on the side of the foot of Spiker. I twisted my foot and tore some ligaments on my lateral right ankle. It was in a cast for two months. I never got to the rim, and my spring track jumping exploits pretty much topped out there.
Used to be I could eat and drink with impunity. As a child, my father was fond of saying that bringing me to a restaurant ensured we’d get our money’s worth. I could always be counted on to eat my meal as well as finish off everyone else’s. One summer during my college years, I found my self in the middle of a drinking exam involving a yard of beer. Passing the exam without a break earned me the nickname “Hoover-A-Okay.” Despite my gluttonous ways, I managed to remain the same weight for a decade and a half.
Well, what used to be is now firmly ensconced in the past. Today’s run was a total wreck. I warmed up on the first two miles, then decided to slowly work into a series of pick-ups. The first repetition was supposed to last twenty respirations. I’d count up to ten on exhalations then count down to zero slowly increasing running pace. As the rep’s would increase so would their duration. Between rep’s I would jog to recovery. I planned to keep this cycle going for about four miles. I got to six on the way down in the first repetition when I heard a pop and felt a cramp at the distal head of my right calf muscle. I hobbled off to the side. After unsuccessfully trying to work out the knot and successfully letting loose a number of choice expletives, I decided to limp home. It’s now Sunday night. The cramp is gone. Extreme tenderness remains. Today, I was able to hit some grounders and pop-ups to Nephew, but I still can’t bear full weight on my right side without a good bit of pain.
I've not quite crossed the line where one measures physical progress by delaying decline rather than improving performance. The improvements are, however, much harder to come by. And, one only needs to watch my weight yo-yo to see that the miraculous metabolism of youth no longer applies. I’m hoping to walk through my workouts the next few days and get back to running by the end of the week.
Sunday, April 17, 2005
Used To Be