HEEDLESS

I was apparently, not going to heed the warning signs. It was Saturday evening, December 13, and I was home from the Bat Mitzvah I'd just attended. I knew I shouldn't do the planned 16 miler in Central Park tomorrow. My lower left calf/Achilles area had bothered me, on and off, all week. Caution was called for. Perhaps an elliptical workout, a long one, would be a useful compromise. Good training, low injury risk. Smart!

But there on my computer was an email message from Tamar who I was supposed to run with. I'd half hoped that she'd forgotten. But she hadn't and she wrote that she was looking forward to the run. And I was, too.

It would be challenging with her. She's faster than me and chooses tough workouts. To run with her, I'd be forced to quicken the pace. And she'd struck a chord when she'd said earlier in the week: "When I start a long run, I don't stop." That meant no stopping for water or gu or stretching as I'd been doing on all my long runs in this training cycle. That felt like cheating to me though I had good reasons to do it.

I'd been cautious recently to guard against injury, reinjury and because my aerobic strength was just not back yet. I was tired of it. Running with Tamar meant a more aggressive run. I didn't think I'd do that on my own; with her, I thought, I would.

But only, unfortunately, if I could. And the discomfort of the week made me think that, perhaps, this wasn't the time to try. On the other hand, while I was at the Bat Mitzvah I'd stretched and twisted and pointed and flexed the calf and the ankle in every which way and every which manner I could. And it felt fine. Could it be favorable divine intervention because I was at a Bat Mitzvah? Doubtful because:

a-I'd missed the services and was only attending the party. God couldn't be thrilled about that.

b-I don't believe in God.

c-If I did believe in God, I wouldn't believe in God who cared about my calf.

d-If God did care about my calf, why would he/she intervene now for one lousy long run and not over the summer when I'd missed 8 weeks?

On the other hand, the calf did seem to feel okay no matter what I did to it. Oh, and one other thing. I just knew that if I cancelled now Tamar would probably never schedule another run with me again. So I called her and made plans for Sunday morning. It was time to take a risk.

I arrived early. I decided to test the calf out with a short run on the level, flat bridal path. It did seem odd to warm up for a long run and make it even longer, especially since I wasn't sure I could do the distance in the first place. But I wanted to know how the area would feel. If it broke down there and then I'd have to cancel. Obviously I can't do what I can't do. But at least this way I'd know for sure that I'd given it my best shot and just couldn't do it.

It seemed a manly approach.

It felt fine. Tamar arrived and soon we were off. The pace was good and the calf felt okay. As we approached our first hill (ups and downs tend to set it off) I was apprehensive. And on the second hill. The third. And the fourth. We had nice conversations going on but I must admit that my mind was more aware of any messages that my calf cared to send me. It wasn't sending me any and I grew more confident. And better able to concentrate on our discussions. And on our pace which I had to ask us to slow a few times. And it was fine!

We finished 11 miles at a good pace with no stops and no reinjury and now we had just one 5 mile loop to go. I was, however, wearing down. My sentences were limited to just a few words that I hoped would provoke a long response. That would give me more time to breath. At mile 13, with 3 miles to go, Tamar commented that it looked like I could now beat her in a race. I had no idea what it might look like; what it felt like, however, was that if I tried it I'd die.

The whole run I was self concious that I was slowing Tamar from the pace she'd like to run. She kept telling me no as she hadn't done more than a 12 miler recently. The pace was fine, she said. At 14 miles though I felt like I couldn't maintain it. I told her to go ahead if she wanted and I'd meet her at the finish. I no longer felt guilty as she sped away. Except she wasn't. I kept up with her. We reached our 16 mile goal. My (our) pace had never slowed.

I was SO happy as I poured down an entire gatoraid. My fastest long run of the current training cycle and just my second on the tough hills of Central Park. No stopping, no injuries, no pain, no cheating. A good, aggressive workout.

And a fun one, too. I looked forward to our reward brunch. And I was glad that I hadn't heeded my self warning...at least this time.