Isaac typically loves running with me. Long runs, mile repeats, 60-90 minutes in the stroller no problem. No whining, no crying, just babbles away or rests his body. However, today was different. Fifteen minutes into our scheduled 7 mile run he started to squeak, like a broken record. He continued, far from all out crying thank goodness, but enough to warrant some attention. I knew that at any minute he could blow. When you're doing an out-and-back long run with a kid and you reach a certain point, you are all in. All or nothing. Committed to the run. Luckily I was only about 2 miles in, only 15 minutes from home. I paused a few times, reaching into the Chariot to hand him a teething toy, then my watch, then my water bottle, then my running hat, anything just to keep him happy. Whining continued. We were not in stride. I like our running relationship to be symbiotic. Running with my kids is supposed to be fun, for all involved. I won't run to make them miserable, because in turn it just makes us all miserable. Isaac whines and cries so rarely that when he does, I know he truly is unhappy. I don't want to make my sweet baby unhappy.
Plus, my left foot has been bugging me all week. Ever since completing 4x1 mile fast repeats on Monday morning it has been an inconvenience. Luckily no more than that, but something is definitely going on there. I cut back on mileage this week, shortened my two easy runs to 4 miles each instead of 8, took Friday completely off (a big feat as rest days are very hard for me) and even cooled-down a little after Thursday's race, and stretched! Nothing has really helped. As Isaac's pitch increased in the stroller this morning, so did my pain. Both slowly getting worse and worse. I need to run, though, I told myself. I needed the stress-relief and endorphin high that always awaits me at the end of a long run. Last night was rough - up at 11pm with Isaac, then again at 4am with Isaac who woke up Cesia who wouldn't go back to sleep for the day. I managed to get Isaac back in bed until 6am but big sister was up for the day at 4 and crabby, hence the Diego episode and 5am blog post.
Finishing up this morning's blog post
with my little guy.
My left heel was shouting at me not to run. My head was arguing for the same. Isaac was in agreement. Are you smarter than an 8 month old? I wondered. Little boy clearly knew that something was wrong. We were not in symbiosis and he was not feeling it today. Neither was I. I turned that Chariot around and on our 2 mile jog home I realized that I wasn't touching my left heel to the ground at all. Running barefoot or in minimalist shoes, I have trained myself to land on the ball of my foot. For the past 3 years I have run completely injury-free with perfect running form. Not today. I have been gradually and carefully increasing my mileage and speed, but maybe not quite slowly enough.
I get excited. I get addicted. I need that high and as my fitness improves I need to run more to get it. I miss the days that I could get that feeling from just a 15 minute run. Now it takes at least 45, if not more. Not unlike a drug-addict, my brain builds up a tolerance and I continually need more and more chemical release to be satisfied. I worked for years in a Drug and Addiction research group at UCLA and studied the neuroscience behind addiction. I wrote my Master's Thesis on impulse-control. I understand addiction fairly well, I know what's going on and I feel comfortable self-diagnosing myself. Heck, during my years at UCLA I even helped a few recovering addicts "switch" their addictions from methamphetamine or cocaine to running. The brain can be fooled. Sometimes we just need a high.
Luckily I have a smart little 8 month old. He convinced me to turn around, cut the run short and may have saved me from a stress fracture. We came home, ate a quick lunch and visited the local running store that happened to be hosting a free "Clinic Day" today. I saw a podiatrist and physical therapist who both played around with my heel and diagnosed me with a stress reaction or stress spot. They felt comfortable that it isn't a full-blown stress fracture, but rather a precursor. My body is signaling for me to back down. I know that I must obey. This is the hard part...
Have a great weekend, all. Hope things are looking up for you. I'm off to rest a little before babysitting 22 kids (along with three other Church folk) at a Kids Night Out event at our community church tonight. Send me some patience!
Early morning playtime.
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