|February 20, 2014||Posted by Emily under Uncategorized|
Safety has been a real buzz kill this week.
It all started on Tuesday night when someone called “safety dance” on our weekly run. As a newbie to the group I had no idea what the heck this meant, so I frantically texted one of the veterans to fill me in. He described it as a “prom theme” for the run and pointed me to the part of the email where it very clearly stated we were to show up in as much illuminated gear and neon attire as we could find. Because you know, safety.
Fast forward five miles and a very muddy, very debris covered trail and one of our crew members tripped, slipped, skidded, and sliced an alarmingly huge chunk of his hand off on an unruly log. One urgent care visit and five stitches later and he was back in the basement drinking beer with us. But before that pint was poured, plenty of panic went down as we silently marched the two miles back to our home base with Jason’s wounded hand wrapped in a sweaty, muddy bandana. The safest run of the year ended up being the bloodiest run of the year. Major #buzzkill
You’re welcome for sparing you the graphic versions. (SOURCE)
Beyond that mild disaster, trying to do the safe thing has been the name of the game this week.
You know that expression better safe than sorry? It’s owning me right now.
As someone who has been injured TOO MANY TIMES, I’m super duper not interested in getting injured again. This means I have to be careful, take care of myself and listen to my body.
I don’t know why I’m smiling here. Crutches/boots/broken bones are NOT FUN.
The hard thing about listening to your body, is that sometimes it doesn’t really talk loudly enough for you to understand what it wants. In the past, I’ve usually exercised very selective hearing that doesn’t really let me process my body’s needs until it’s SCREAMING for attention. And by the time my body is screaming, it’s usually in need of 8-12 weeks off from running.
So I’m working on that.
Right now my body is definitely trying to tell me something, I’m just not sure exactly what it is. And I’m not sure how desperate it is for me to do something about it. It might be nothing, it might be something. But I’d rather not dick around if it’s something. Better safe than sorry, right?
Basically, my ass is real tight. And mostly just on my right side (RED FLAG). Since late last week, it’s been throwing my body off enough to make me cut back the intensity or duration of every run. I can tell my stride is off (RED FLAG) and while nothing hurts while I’m running, I’m starting to feel enough twinging (RED FLAG) after the run to know that continuing to run high mileage and high intensity is a no good, very bad plan.
So in the interest of not ending up on yet another sideline, I’m playing it safe.
Which means for the second month in a row, my suncation is getting scrapped. You may remember that I was supposed to be flying out to Arizona right now to run an ultra relay. Yeah. That’s not happening. As much as I was counting down the seconds until I got to hang out with 6 girlfriends and run around the desert in running shorts, the trip is not worth the risk. “Can I please run 38 miles in 24 hours and hang out, cramped up in a small van in between relay legs??” is definitely not what my body is saying.
As hard as this decision was to make, and as much as I’m still tempted to fly down to Arizona tomorrow, and as much as I feel like absolute shit for having to bail at the last minute, deep down, I know this was the right move. I’ve been crushed by relays before, and as much fun as they are, I can’t risk getting seriously injured for a weekend of fun running.
So instead I’m staying home and rolling the heck out of my hips and glutes, stretching like whoa, going to yoga, scheduling some body work, and easing off the heavy miles for at least a few days.
At which point I’ll reassess and see if it’s something that needs even more TLC than I can give it with my yoga mat and lacrosse ball. Every time I get depressed about not going on this relay adventure or training less than usual, I remind myself that a week of low mileage (or no mileage) and one missed “race” is way >>>>>>> months of no mileage and lots of DNS action.
If you need me, I’ll be on top of a foam roller chanting “better safe than sorry” over and over and over again.