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?