RUNNING PAINS

I must be very fragile. Something always hurts and by that I really mean somethings. And those somethings seem to affect my running, affect my speed, affect my training.

And it doesn't do much for my mood, either.

A few weeks ago I was running in the outfield to cut off a base hit. I stumbled as I got to the ball and kept from falling by using my left arm to brace myself against the ground. Hours later my wrist hurt so much that I thought I might have broken it.

In May I ran a solid Brooklyn Half Marathon. Around the fourth mile I raised blisters on the inside of both my feet. At race's conclusion my feet and shoes were bathed in blood. I've taped mightily, but, since then, I've developed blisters on several long runs, making them extremely uncomfortable and certainly slowing my pace.

And, of course, there was the pulled calf muscle during a mid May softball game that cost me almost 2 weeks of training.

Finally, most recently, all the abdominal work I've been doing with my trainer has given me not six-pack abs but a lower abdominal strain, or, worst case possibility, a hernia. For the past week or so I hurt SO much there as I start to run. The pain generally subsides but is often at least somewhat uncomfortable. It has to affect my speed.

What a mess I am!

Well, the wrist only hurts now when I throw, the calf is healed and the blistering seems much better now that my podiatrist shaved off the offending portions of my orthotics. Since it seems like I can run through the ab problem my strategy is to ignore it as much as possible and hope that it will get better.

Still, I can's say that I went into today's Gay and Lesbian Five Mile Race with a whole lot of confidence. What body part would be most likely to betray me? And then, of course, there was the problem with the heat and humidity...there was too much of both and I don't generally run well in either of them.

So the race began and, to my delight, the lower ab didn't hurt me much. Nor did the blister. Nor did anything else. And my time for the first mile was good. And my time for the second mile was just as good!

Too good, unfortunately. My pace was too fast and I died in the race's second half. Not literally, of course, though I did feel kind of sick. I slowed dramatically, watched much of the running world run past me and, eventually, staggered across the line.

I finished 7th in my age group out of about 65 and around 500th in the race that had over 3000 participants so I didn't do that bad in a comparative sense. It was, I think, my slowest 5 mile race ever. My pace, in fact, was far slower than it had been in the much longer Brooklyn Half Marathon.

But I'm hopeful my abs problem is getting better, nothing else physically bothered me, nothing fell off my body besides lots of sweat and I did run a good two and a half miles.

It would be great if my upcoming running pains would be just from the pain of hard running.

STRUGGLING FOR BETTER

I'm afraid my athletic performances are heading down hill. If that's true, then a big part of my identity is under threat. So evidence that this is the case is VERY upsetting. Any indication that someone besides me recognizes this is INFURIATING!!

That's probably why that last stupid softball game I wrote about bothered me so.

Since then I've played pretty well in my Sunday league and that's cheered me up. It was only this past Monday that we had another game in the week day league, however. I was so nervous about what might happen that I hoped for rain. Let's postpone any potential bad news for about a month!

It didn't rain, though, and only 10 of our players showed up. I had to be in the line up (1 bit of bad news avoided), but, of course, I could play poorly and cement my lowly status and the guy who appears to have replaced me could do well and solidify his.

The starting lineup further darkened my outlook. Once again I was listed in the last spot, the polar opposite of my (once) customary lead off position. I began the game in a foul mood.

The very first inning reinforced all that was wrong. My nemisis lead off with a walk and we started a big inning. I batted with 2 on base and failed to contribute as I flied out weakly on a pitch out of the strike zone. Everything sucked and it was all going to get worse.

And then it turned. My remaining 2 at bats were excellent and I played really well in the field. I worked the pitcher, hit the ball hard, reached base and ran down everything that came near me in the outfield. Suddenly I felt in the groove and my confidence began to grow. My counterpart, meanwhile, hit poorly the rest of the way and had an absolutely disasterous game in left field.

We won the game and the manager said to me that the team really needed me in right field. Okay. Well, we'll see what happens when (and if) those missing guys start to show up.

But for now at least it's better.

THIS HURTS

Hurts and sucks, actually.

My weekday team has struggled from the start, losing 3 of 4 games. Yesterday we faced the league's first place team, an opportunity for us to go deeper into the hole or pull off a big win and turn the season around.

And there was good reason for optimism. Our #1 pitcher, Jose, was scheduled to appear with us for the first time!

Meanwhile, our manager, perturped by our lack of hitting, sent an email to expect line up changes.

Game time arrived with ominous clouds above and, much more threatening for us, Jose not present. In his early season sabatical we'd used 3 other pitchers. NONE of them were there either. We had NO pitcher to go against the best hitting team in the league.

So I was asked to step into the vacuum. I hadn't pitched a game in years nor been a regular pitcher since 1997. But I'd do my best in what would be an almost hopeless situation.

And then the manager read the starting lineup. Remember those line up changes he promised? There was only 1. I was dropped from my customary lead off spot to the last position in the batting order.

Apparently I was the cause of our poor run production. In fact, I wasn't. I'd missed 2 games with injury and work and reached base safely in half my at bats in the contests I'd played.Nothing great, nothing terrible. So why had I been booted from a key spot to the least important? I was stunned.

Nevertheless, I went out to pitch and did reasonably well. They scored twice on hits and once on an error and that was all for 2 innings. Believe me, it could have been much worse. Our bats were silent again and mine, in the 10 hole, was unused as we hadn't even reached my spot in the order yet.

We trailed, 3-0, going into the 3rd inning when Jose arrived. It was a no brainer to put him into pitch, and it was, apparently, a no brainer for the coach to remove me from the game to make room for him though it could have been any other player.

We now had 11 guys at the field. I spent the rest of the evening watching the other 10.

Jose pitched extremely well and added 3 hits including a game turning triple and we came from behind to win. The guy in my spot had 1 hit in 4 turns...nothing special...but his single and speed on the bases helped tie the score.

It was a great team victory but I shared in none of the pleasure. I'd been told where I stood on the team...least important and most disposable of the 11. And considering that there were several others who weren't at the game who would probably play before me, my value is likely even less.

A coach's decision, a coach's evaluation. Coming off a very solid 2007 I'm not sure what I'd done to merit it.

What a drag for this to be my first post in all these months. But boy, does this hurt and embarass and anger me. I've been suddenly marginalized. This used to be my team and I used to matter.