Distance: 3.72 miles
Time: 38:17'
Pace: 10:16 per mile
Thursday's Run:
Distance: 6.76 miles
Time: 1:11:39
Pace: 10:35 per mile
The soreness in my foot continues to worry me a little, but I figured that skipping Saturday and Monday's run was as much of a break as I could afford to take with the race only a little more than two weeks away. I was nervous to start pounding the pavement on Wednesday, but I taped both of my feet/ankles and that has helped quite a bit. I've also been icing my feet after the runs, so my feet actually felt better this morning and yesterday morning than they did during the several days that I was trying to rest them. Dad says I'm getting old; I didn't have any of these foot troubles when I spent more time running longer distancs while training for the full marathon in 2003.
A college friend of mine recently told me that when her dad was battling testicular cancer, the hardest thing for him to deal with was feeling like his body was working against him after he'd done so much to try to make his body work for him. I know my dad has certainly experienced similar frustration, especially since it is his treatments that make him feel the most ill. While I was running yesterday, I was thinking about how my dad was in the hospital getting his most recent chemotherapy dosage, and how my running injuries have given me a small dose of understanding about what that must be like.
I know it's pretty selfish to feel sorry for yourself about your feet being sore when your dad is being forced to poison his body in an attempt to save it. But it still annoys me that my body isn't holding up as well as I'd like. The other night Billy and I got tickets to the Maryland vs. Wake Forest basketball game, and by the time we got into the arena, my feet were pretty sore from a long day of work and class. When I was a child, I accepted the fact that I wasn't athletically gifted. Since then, I've been content to be athletically mediocre at everything I've tried. But as I watched the players effortlessly performing maneuvers which would have caused me great pain, I couldn't help thinking:
It's just not fair.
Why are some bodies capable of withstanding so much more than mine can?
Who decided that he gets to have a healthy body and I get to have one that gives me trouble?
Does he even realize how lucky he is?
I wasn't jealous that the players could dunk, or that thousands of people were chanting their names; I was jealous that they could stop and start while running without wincing. It's a hard thing, coming to terms with the fact that the health of your body is outside your own control. I can only imagine how hard it is when your life is at stake.
Donations Update:
Mary and Gary, thanks so much for your generous contribution and the supportive words you've offered all along the way!
Time: 1:11:39
Pace: 10:35 per mile
The soreness in my foot continues to worry me a little, but I figured that skipping Saturday and Monday's run was as much of a break as I could afford to take with the race only a little more than two weeks away. I was nervous to start pounding the pavement on Wednesday, but I taped both of my feet/ankles and that has helped quite a bit. I've also been icing my feet after the runs, so my feet actually felt better this morning and yesterday morning than they did during the several days that I was trying to rest them. Dad says I'm getting old; I didn't have any of these foot troubles when I spent more time running longer distancs while training for the full marathon in 2003.
A college friend of mine recently told me that when her dad was battling testicular cancer, the hardest thing for him to deal with was feeling like his body was working against him after he'd done so much to try to make his body work for him. I know my dad has certainly experienced similar frustration, especially since it is his treatments that make him feel the most ill. While I was running yesterday, I was thinking about how my dad was in the hospital getting his most recent chemotherapy dosage, and how my running injuries have given me a small dose of understanding about what that must be like.
I know it's pretty selfish to feel sorry for yourself about your feet being sore when your dad is being forced to poison his body in an attempt to save it. But it still annoys me that my body isn't holding up as well as I'd like. The other night Billy and I got tickets to the Maryland vs. Wake Forest basketball game, and by the time we got into the arena, my feet were pretty sore from a long day of work and class. When I was a child, I accepted the fact that I wasn't athletically gifted. Since then, I've been content to be athletically mediocre at everything I've tried. But as I watched the players effortlessly performing maneuvers which would have caused me great pain, I couldn't help thinking:
It's just not fair.
Why are some bodies capable of withstanding so much more than mine can?
Who decided that he gets to have a healthy body and I get to have one that gives me trouble?
Does he even realize how lucky he is?
I wasn't jealous that the players could dunk, or that thousands of people were chanting their names; I was jealous that they could stop and start while running without wincing. It's a hard thing, coming to terms with the fact that the health of your body is outside your own control. I can only imagine how hard it is when your life is at stake.
Donations Update:
Mary and Gary, thanks so much for your generous contribution and the supportive words you've offered all along the way!
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