black-hearted villains, unearthly bumping noises, howling wolves--the usual.
Running news:
Around 7.5 of the most disappointing miles of my life.
The answer is in, from multiple sources! Coup de foudre is indeed "love at first sight," which Barbara Bretton opines truly exists, being one of those who has experienced it.
Thank God that's cleared up.
This morning I had prepared myself to do 12 miles, a personal best for me. I knew I might be stretching it, having done 8 miles yesterday, but the weekends are the best time to run, and I wanted to increase my mileage a bit. I wasn't expecting the 12 miles to go like clockwork, but I figured if I went at an easy pace, I could do them. I put out a bottle of water (which I always put out for long runs), plus half a Balance bar, to be eaten after the first two circuits (9 miles).
Since it was cold out this morning, I did something I do very, very rarely. I stretched at the beginning of the run. After I'd run about a mile I did some light stretches. Nothing severe or reminiscent of Indian fakirs. I wonder if this is how I caused myself the problem.
I did the first circuit, 5.3 miles, in 52 minutes. Not a great speed. But that was okay, I had 7 more miles to go. I drank some water and got back on the road.
About a mile into the second circuit (4.1 miles) my left leg felt a bit odd, and I realized I was favoring my right leg. I wondered if that was typical with runners, that one leg is dominant and does more work than the other. Then I realized that this was beyond "dominant," this was "the majority."
Halfway through, my left knee said, "No."
I kept walking--stopping cold seemed like a bad idea, and I thought, I'll walk for a bit and then take up where I left off. Then I thought, No, the run for the day is over, I'll walk home.
Then I thought, there's a strip mall one short block away, go call Darin NOW.
The victor of the battle of the collect numbers is in: I thought of 1-800-CALL-ATT before I thought of 1-800-COLLECT. I called Darin and he came to get me.
My left knee has been stiff all day. It's not really the knee as much as the area in the back of the knee. Our house guest Jim thought it might be the tendon; he advised keeping it elevated and iced. I haven't done either, but I know I probably should.
I wish I knew what this was. And whether it was a harbinger of worse to come.
Last night Darin and I accompanied Jim downtown to see Jim's business partner Ed play piano in a jazz quarter fronted by "legendary saxophonist" Teddy Edwards. (He may indeed be legendary; I haven't the slightest.) Teddy's 75th birthday celebration was at the Bonaventure Brewery, one restaurant of the seeming thousands at the Westin Bonaventure Hotel.
Dinner was okay--my sea scallops with cappellini was over-salted, so I ate the scallops and a little pasta and that was it--but the desserts were amazing. I had a taste of my chocolate pate and thought I'd died; Darin tasted it and said, "We're taking that home." (It was clear I wasn't going to eat it there.) Darin's lemon curd tart was extremely tasty; Jim's cappucino creme brulee was good (not the best creme brulee ever, but still quite well done).
The bummer was that the bass in the quartet was overamped, so that was pretty much all we heard. Sometimes we heard the drums, sometimes we heard the sax. We never heard the piano. At the break Ed came over to talk to us and Jim informed him of the problem; the bass was more modulated after the break, but we still couldn't hear much of Ed's playing other than a little tickling of the keys now and then.
I have half of one of the items on the to do list done: I read Aaron's pages for Monday night's meeting. I have to read Gonzo's script too. Must. Get. Busy.
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Copyright 1999 Diane Patterson
Send comments and questions to diane@spies.com