I text: “Can you come by?”
Ten seconds later, my phone rings. A kind voice full of concern fills my ears.
“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
I laughed, though I quickly re-read my text to see if what I thought was a casual, normal request came off dripping with desperation. No signs to the latter as far as I could tell.
“What could be wrong?” I joked. “Worst case scenario is I had a bad run & need a hug.”
He laughs. “Yeah. You’re pretty low drama.”
The funniest thing was that I had just finished a bad run and I needed a hug. I didn’t realize the last part until I had said it.
A mile into my 8 mile run, a pain made itself known on the outside of my left leg from just below my knee almost down to my ankle. First strike, no biggie. Maybe a misstep. Then the second strike, same pain. A few more strides and I’m starting to limp. I realized this wasn’t an ache or soreness, this was a problem. After 2.17 miles I stopped my run.
Not-so-random numbers raged inside of my mind and fought for attention: 5, 1, 18, 20, 22, 3.
5 equals the number of long, dark, cold, winter months I’ve dedicated to training…outside. In snow, in rain, and yes, in some descent weather, too.
1 equals the ONE month I have left before my very first marathon. Paid for. In full. Plane ticket to Florida. Housing. Marathon.
18, 20, 22 equals the mileage I’m schedule to run for the next three Saturdays. The “real” distances. The distances that will let me know I’m ready for this. The distances I can’t run if this pain turns out to be an injury.
3 equals the least number of weeks I’ve heard any serious injury takes to heal. The number of weeks I’m too far into the game to spare because I’m only 4 weeks away from this marathon.
Yes. Something was wrong. I was worried. But, you know, perspective.
And at that moment, I was happy. Happy that someone close to me could tell from a text that something was wrong. Happy that sometimes a voice and kind words can wrap themselves around me as effective as any hug.
We hung up. Then I Googled until I found a number I liked: 2.
2 equals the minimum amount of days of R.I.C.E (Rest, Ice, Compress, Elevate) it could take me to recover. If the pain is what I self-diagnosed myself has having, I should be able to run on Saturday.
I’m hopeful because the pain is only when I run. I can walk, hop, and take the stairs without pain. So, it’s not an all-encompassing injury, which is a really, REALLY good sign. I’ll let you know how Saturday goes.
And did I mention I was happy? ^.^