My calves have gone on strike! I've been hobbling around like a little old lady. Ouch! Ouch! Ouch!
I nearly rang Krissi on Monday night to suggest we did weights on Tuesday morning. Instead I decided that an extra night's sleep would make all the difference. It didn't. Going up the stairs at Krissi's was torture, but there was no way I was catching the lift! Practically before I said "good morning" I said "my calves hurt, I don't know if I can run". I explained that I was telling her now to prepare her for the inevitable moaning and groaning that would accompany any attempt to move my legs that was faster than a hobble.
One thing you have to admire about Krissi - she doesn't waste sympathy. I "ouched" all the way down the stairs. It made no difference. As soon as we hit the footpath we were running.
We headed off in a different direction to our usual run from her place. Now, I really don't like new runs. I like them even less when I don't think I can run. We started off slowly so that my calves had a chance to warm up. Between my misery about my sore legs and my misery about not knowing where we were going I was a sad and sorry specimen of a runner. Fortunately for Krissi, I moan a lot less in real life than I do when I'm recounting the run. Well, I moan less out loud. Krissi chats away to distract me while I have an internal dialogue along the lines of "I hate this. My breathing is fine. I hate this. My legs are warming up and don't hurt so much now. I hate this. I'm running quite well really. I hate this. I don't really have any reason to stop. I hate this. Oh, this is quite an interesting route. I hate this."
Finally we crossed suburbia to the running path that we usually start behind the War Memorial. It took us just over 15 minutes to get there. I didn't know how far along we'd go, but I knew we wouldn't turn around until we'd been out for half an hour. By then my legs were fine and I'd stopped complaining to myself every step of the way. In fact, I was thoroughly enjoying myself.
At the half hour mark I was ready to turn around, but Krissi reminded me that we'd run up a long 'false hill' on the way, so we'd be faster on the way back. She suggested that we run to the turnoff just past the start of the horrible hill. Up I went, thinking "I'm never faster on the way back" but knowing better than to mention it. I was also looking forward to running down the long hill. It was every bit as good as I'd hoped.
We ran for a little more than an hour, which was a fantastic effort on legs that hadn't wanted to get out of the car.
Later that day I was back to hobbling like a little old lady, thinking to myself in amusement "I do this for my health!" The world is a crazy place!