I blame Duncan for all of this. Awhile back he was on a kick about a band called The National, and since taking his suggestion and buying their Boxer I've been bringing it along on a few of my easier runs. Yesterday I found myself bounding down a tilting section of Dog Poop Trail and entering a short section of road while listening to "Start a War". The sun was just coming up over the mountains and I was cutting through the cold air with ease. I had the full-on feeling of looking down on myself running as the lyrics resonated, free and easy. I remember saying to myself, "This is why". I was answering any number of questions I get from time to time about what makes me get up and do this, why I feel compelled to do it daily, and why I do it so often. This is why. When it's good it's very good.
A few seconds later I crossed back onto the sandy edge of the trail from the short section of road. My foot sank into a wet sandbar and rolled under as my body kept moving. A few expletives later I surveyed the damage. I could put weight on it but it hurt like hell. I could feel the hot swelling coming on immediately as the outside of my ankle started pressing against the edge of my shoe. No cell, no cars. After about a half mile of walking up the Poop Trail I started running. It was ugly, but as long as the road was even it was ok. Since it was only another three miles to the house I loped along as best as I could, skipping the opportunity to make a collect call home at the grocery store a mile and a half out. It was nice to get home.
It looks like a strain, which is better than a sprain, and as a precaution I'm skipping the run today. The swelling is down a bit with ice, ibuprofin, compression and as much elevation as I can manage. I'll hopefully get out for a bit tomorrow if the swelling goes down some more. I guess this is my last recovery week post-marathon, like it or not.
Training: 2/6, 7.6 miles, mostly running and hobbling