Seriously, I do love being injured. I have had all of the following at one time or another: stress fracture (this was the best, as it gave me an excuse for no running AT ALL for a solid two months, and only light running after that for another couple months); IT band syndrome (not so good since the damage could be mediated by stretching and tape, which just added MORE time to my workouts but made me feel guilty if I didn't do it), tendinitis (also not good because, as I discovered in the Missoula Marathon, I could run just as fast with tendinitis as without it; it just hurt with every step), and now this mystery ailment somewhere near my left ankle. I have a vague feeling that tendons are involved somehow, but not the big ones. Probably some little tiny insignificant tendon that doesn't even have a name. It doesn't actively hurt like it did the week before and during the Mount Lemmon Marathon, but if I bend my foot a certain way or push in on the spot, I can feel it, so I know it's still there. It has been a nice excuse to not run at all since the MLM.
Why do I like being injured? Mainly because it allows me time to do the other stuff I like to do, more than I like exercising. Reading, writing, training my dogs, writing this blog, thinking about doing another blog, researching law school to see whether that is a good idea or not... those things are a lot easier to schedule when not having to fit in workouts. Running is almost guaranteed to produce a whole host of injuries in a staggered but never-ending parade.
Unfortunately, although running injuries are common, it is rare that any injury affects my whole body to the point where I can't ride or swim. Technically, I could have been doing both of those this whole past week; however, I firmly believe that you deserve a whole week off of everything following a marathon, at least if you are a normal person who would prefer NON-exercising over exercising. That was one of my reasons for not quitting in the MLM -- I wanted the week of sloth and gluttony to follow the marathon, and knew I couldn't have it if I quit. But that week is officially over as of tonight, and tomorrow I will have to... GASP... do something. Something physical, I mean, something harder than strolling at 2 miles an hour behind elderly blind veterans for a few hours a day.
Oh, and I'm getting fatter. I definitely think it is easier to be motivated for training when you are heartbroken than when you are in a stable, happy relationship where road trips, dining out, and cuddling up in movie theaters are options that conflict with workouts. We are BOTH getting fatter, actually. Heartbreak definitely is not preferable to stability and happiness as a life experience, but as a training fuel it was second to none.
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