I hope this never ends.
Wednesday morning, I awoke to the pitter patter of rain on my air conditioner. First thought: Yes, time to go back to bed. Obviously, roughly seven minutes later, I was up and ready to run. After all, what’s another rainy run?
Fortunately, since I had to make an impromptu purchase of waterproof running gear just two weeks ago in anticipation of the snowy Manhattan half, I was prepared. Despite the 50-degree temperature, I still wore my pink bedazzled 180s since I tend to get a dull headache if my ears get even the tiniest bit cold, but I at least learned my lesson from the previous day and left the gloves at home.
After about two blocks and countless dog-feces swerves, I was sweating, and there wasn’t a drop of rain in sight. Apparently, the skies had generously cleared enough for the duration of my run, much to the dismay of my overheated body stuffed beneath a useless raincoat.
It also wasn’t long before I realized that my quads were burning. Not from being overheated but because it was my third day in a row pounding pavement and, come to think of it, I haven’t given my body much time to recuperate since the half marathon. Um, one day total, to be exact.
Anyway, I came to a conclusion yesterday morning that I’ve come to many times before. And that’s that sore muscles shouldn’t bar you from a run. Especially on a crazy warm day in the middle of winter. I’m not saying that anyone should ever run through an injury. I’ve done it before, and it was completely stupid. It also inhibited me from doing anything but yoga for a solid four weeks.
Sore muscles though? That’s normal. In fact, sore muscles are good – it means you really pushed yourself, and that’s something you should be proud of. Don’t detract from your progress by staying in bed pressing snooze over and over, making excuses in your head. Do run slowly through the soreness, taking time to stretch and care for your muscles properly. In the end, you know what? The tightness begins to dissipate, and you feel like a freaking champion.
So yea, I reached my Wednesday goal. I had been yearning for a true East River run (meaning I didn’t have to cut it short), making it all 5.5 to 6 miles to the Williamsburg Bridge and home with ample time to shower and walk to work. It was sluggish, it was sweaty, and there were puddles everywhere. But looking back on the last 24 hours, it was the best 55 minutes I got.
On another note, Noah signed up for the Chicago Marathon, his second one since Berlin, today with a few of his friends. I, on the other hand, didn’t (though I’ll be cheering from the sidelines). I obviously contemplated it – it is a flat, speedy course after all, and Chicago is a beautiful city. But after encouraging words from my ultra-supportive and speedy marathon-running cousin (“My vote is for you to ice your quads, suck it up and run Chicago”), I’ve decided to stick to my guns and sit this one out. I’ll run my first marathon one day. It’s just not going to be in October.
***Disclaimer: I’m not a professional coach. I’m just a crazy enthusiastic runner. Seriously people, don’t run through an injury. If you’re not sure whether that strange twinge in your leg is soreness or an injury, don’t push it.