Dear Heel, Please Heal

I want to tell you how I breezed through ten miles on Saturday.  I want to tell you how I'm going to *kill* it in NYC this year.  I want to, but I can't.  Saturday was brutal.

I didn't go to the lake (I know, I know) to run and that meant that I didn't get started until almost 8:00 a.m. when it was already approximately 11,000 degrees.  Honestly, I was a little cocky about running ten and boy, did I get a schooling.  I can usually tell how a run will go on the first mile - how my legs are feeling, the temperature, my speed etc...  Mile number one on Saturday could have been titled "uh oh".  I can think of a couple of other "titles" for the miles I ran that day, but they are not fit to print.  I haven't had a great long run this summer, but this was by far the worst.  To keep the fun coming, by Saturday night, my left achilles was in pain again.  UGH. 

I took Sunday and today as rest days and I emailed Maggie (my Lukes coach).  She says that I can still run, but I need to lay off the speed (um... that doesn't seem like it will be a problem).  She also said not to stretch my achilles right now because that just makes the problem worse.  The plan is to slow down a little and ice a lot after running.  According to Maggie, I can even go to the track work out on Thursday with the group as long as I "take it easy on the burpees."  Is she kidding?  I invented taking it easy on burpees.  Let's hope I can beat this thing before it becomes a monster.

P.S.  I heart you, Ira Glass.  For every single second you distracted me from the scorching heat and the pain of those miles with your delightful podcast, I thank you.