My body hates me.

Or is it just out to get me? I give it this really nice five week break from running and how does it repay me? With pain. Soreness. And exhaustion.

Yes, I'm back, but just barely! I decided that I should start out slow... no nine milers the first week and all. There I am, Monday morning, 5am I'm up and out to run, um, two miles. I know, for most people two miles is a huge accomplishment. I know this and hate telling people that my short, morning runs are four miles. I guess I figure that if I'm going to make the effort to get out and run, especially when whether you run two, four, or nine miles, you have to take a shower, I might as well make the most of it. The two miles felt a little different, but I think it was mostly due to having an inactive knee for so long. That night my family had many things to celebrate in addition to my running again, so I managed to make up any calories I might have burned off at Olive Garden (but *YUM* it was worth it!!).

Tuesday morning. Five AM I'm up and out again. Should I try doing 2.5 miles? 3 miles? Yeah. After my first few steps into it, I quickly realize that whatever that place on your body is called... where your legs attach on is quite, well, stretched and sore feeling. I was doing really good to slog 2 miles out again. Slog was really the perfect word in that situation. I was quite glad it was still dark and there weren't any witnesses except for the stray cat or two.

Wednesday morning. Leg attaching place still feels weirdly stretched, so I decide to take a rest day. Thursday and Friday and were great, though very slow with 2.5 and 3 miles respectively.

Saturday morning comes along and it's a beautiful day. Perfect spring weather for a run. It doesn't get much better than this. My husband had been out running and felt the need to tell me that I should go for a nice long run... until he remembered the events of the last five weeks. I did go out. And, I did go for a long run. Compared to the rest of the week. A whopping 4.64mi. Too bad I was too tired to care when I got back. It felt like I had just run at least nine. I wanted a nap. Or at least a sympathetic ear. I got neither.

It upsets me that I have worked so hard to get my body to the point of being able to run when/how/where I want and then take a few weeks off and it rebels to the point of silliness. It must hate me.

But, then again, I was the one that tripped on that rock and did this to it in the first place. Maybe this is my just reward?

Weigh in!

Am I the only person out there that feels like if I'm not up and moving around, the pounds just waiting to pack on? I imagine them crouched around a corner, ready to leap on my hips with a death grip at the first sign of my slowing down. Really, I know that this isn't the truth. My diet hasn't changed any. Yes, my exercise level is down, but when you do the math, sadly, I am only burning about 90 calories per mile anyway. Sidenote... how unfair is that - my husband is burning well over 100 calories per mile. The perks of being a man and 60lbs heavier than I am! Ugh!

I had not weighed myself since my knee accident happened. Excluding the scale at my doctor's office, and I don't put much stock in what it says. In the space of three months, it had me weighing 105lbs and 135lbs. Trust me, neither one was true. More like an average of the two. I knew I should see how much my weight had really changed in the last 5 weeks. Even though my pants still fit, it was something I didn't really want to find out, but felt obligated to do. I gathered the courage to stand on the scale this past Friday morning. Dumm-da-da-dum..... and the same number appeared there that had shown up 5 weeks ago. Down to the decimal point. Wait a minute. I had been banking on having a mini meltdown. Ready to drown myself in tears and chocolate. Now I had to just stare at the digtial display in disbelief. How very anti-climatic.

It must be a mental thing. Not much movement=obesity in my brain. It's not like anybody had commented on my weight gain. In fact, when I asked on Friday if I could sign up for the Biggest Loser challenge at my work, I was laughed at. As so many things in my running and fitness life, here is another mental challenge. And I'm really quite thankful that in reality it's all in my head!

Day 24

I was reading this month's issue of Runner's World this past week and came upon an article that struck a chord... Hell Week ... which seemed appropriately named since, if you read it is about a mom sidelined from running for a week because of an ankle injury. Well folks, we're going on almost 25 days here without a run logged by yours truly, and while I really empathize with this woman and her plight, I would like to see her on Day 14. Or Day 17. Or Day 22. It's going to take more than a bandaid from her son to make it all better. At this point, all the bandaids in the world aren't bringing running back quickly enough for me, so, unfortunately it is my family that is paying the price. My poor husband has been so sympathetic and good to me. Especially when my emotions are running from complacent to wildly tearful in the matter of a couple of minutes. He even felt bad enough to buy dinner twice last week. And offer me a new outfit. Or a new ring. It's a good thing I wasn't having a prosthetic leg put on because who knows what he would have been offering... and our budget can't afford much more than the dinners out last week! I'm sure at this point he's wondering why he didn't leave me a broken and bloody heap out on the trail.

So, long story short. Another trip to the doctor's office to find out why I wasn't magically healed. Another x-ray to make sure that there aren't hidden fractures. Nope. All good. But, the bone is bruised, no running/hiking/lower impact sports until it feels better plus two weeks for good measure. I was told this could take up to six weeks. Thank goodness that by Saturday I felt like I wasn't needing the handicapped placard anymore. In fact, today at work, lots of people noticed that I am walking at a pretty normal gait.

So, instead of counting how many days it's been since I ran, I think my new tactic will be counting down the days left until I can run. Right now we are at 12 days and counting. That sounds lots better than the 35 days it will ultimately be when I can run again.