Monday, March 12, 2007

Wah. Waaaaaah! WAAAAH!

That's me crying about my stupid Achilles injury. My Achilles tendon is sore and I'm a big baby today.

I've had flare ups of Achilles tendonitis before. At least, I think that's what this injury is. I'm terrible at actually being able to pinpoint what on my body hurts. Leg Owie is the technical term I often use. Anyway, I've had this before and I've mostly been able to run through it. I've skipped the occasional run, but I even managed to run a marathon once on a mild case of whatever this is. Last week, however, after my weekend long run, I felt quite hobbled. I popped some Advil and skipped my mid-week runs so that I'd be fresh and ready for the next weekend long run. Also, I spoke with my friend Leonarda, who, despite her protestations, is my unofficial primary care physician. Technically she's a web designer / graphic artist / photographer, but she used to be a doctor.

Leonarda: So, what have you been doing to take care of your Achilles?
Me: Oh, good stuff. Don't worry.
Leonarda: What kind of good stuff?
Me: Plenty of Advil.
Leonarda: How much Advil?
Me: I just told you. Plenty.
Leonarda. Ok, good. How much is plenty?
Me: Usually two at a time. Sometimes one.
Leonarda: *snort of derision*
Me: Look, that's what the directions say! They say one or two.
Leonarda: Fine, if you want a placebo. If you want anti-inflammatory effects, you need to take more.
Me: The bottle says ONE OR TWO. I'm taking TWO. That's a pretty good dose!
Leonarda: Pretty good placebo.

Naturally I ignored her advice. I can read a bottle.

I showed up on Saturday morning for a long run with my running club and casually mentioned to the coach that my Achilles had been bothering me, so I was going to take it a little easy. He grimaced and urged me to skip the run. I explained that I had already skipped two runs that week, and that I'd be ok. He still urged me to be careful.

Naturally I ignored his advice. I have 1,000 miles to run this year!

So, I ran on the bastard and now it hurts like the dickens. And now I'm taking three Advils (600 mg) three times a day, and I'm icing it, and I'm resting, and I'm being a good freaking little boy. Sucks to be me! Sucks to my ass-mar!

I'm gonna be fat in about one week.

That is all.

2 comments:

chess h said...

Mike, can you give a definition of ass-mar? At first glance, I was inclined to think it meant "evil corporate juggernaut giant discount supermarket that smells like ass," but contextually, that didn't make as much sense as I thought.

Oh, and it's not "getting fat," it's re-baselining for a growth spurt.

Mike said...

You didn't google "ass-mar"? Sheesh! Turn in your Internet passport, please.

Actually, had you googled it and found the correct meaning, you would have discarded that conclusion as incorrect since it doesn't really apply to the context here.

That being said, "sucks to your ass-mar" is my favorite quote from Lord of the Flies. Ass-mar refers to asthma.