I think I have a fairly high tolerance for pain. Certain types of pain, anyway. I don’t cringe at most medical procedures, and I don’t normally need the pain killers doctors prescribe (this is not to say that I don’t accept the prescription).
So I started wondering why I so despise getting hurt. Injuries depress me and send me into a funk. Last summer I broke two toes in an epic child-rearing accident (read: I was chasing the kids around the house playing “Monster!” and smashed my foot on the kitchen table). It hurt like hell, but by the time I had my bones reset the pain was totally manageable.
And when I hear the tales of my friend Al Bangorhard running and training for a marathon, I get depressed because I have a lame foot and can barely walk straight.
Remembering back to last summer, what bothered me wasn’t even that I was hurt or that I couldn’t run (when I smashed the toes, I was running 8:20 miles or so on a five-mile course and had a good time in the Beat the Bridge 8k). It was that I was so close to being complete. A couple of little toes. That was it. Now, a broken leg is one thing, but one would think a toe or two wouldn’t be a big deal. It was.
And now this heel…no swelling, no visible bruising, no broken bones. Just enough pain to keep me from using it correctly. Grrrrr.
Happily, I can climb close to my limit again, and there is hope of some being able to run again soon. The funk is lifting, even if it is still raining around here with a flooding vigor and no signs of a dry spell.
2 comments:
Oh yeah, that's where the funk comes from. Or it could just be a convenient excuse to avoid suffering through the Sun Run, which I promised Cap'n Ron I would participate in this year. Sorry Ron. Have fun.
The One-Day STP? That's like 20 miles, right?
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