Peter Pan Workout

For every great run or "medal" race, there are a hundred ugly workouts. I had yet another ugly gauntlet of "work that interferes with running" back-to-back work weeks. I keep waiting for that Nike or Asics sponsorship to retire from the corporate world, but just like "Rudy" my mailbox is empty.

Last week, I had three (literal) twenty hour work days in Philadelphia followed by a flight home to visit the ortho. No...I'm not a "Woody Allen" hypochodriac, but a giant bruise around a history of a stress fracture lead to a visit to the bone Dr. Green light..."don't be a pussy, rub some cream on it, and get your ass back out there was basically what I heard." (verbatim) So the week ended good.

This week was a trip to the opposite coast in California. Imagine a pre-scheduled "ass chewing," and you still booked the flight, to show up and take it. "Thank you sir, may I have another!" Not that I'm complaining.

After taking five days off after the Denver Triathlon I had a saturday bike ride followed by a sunday speed run and swim. The good news was that the pain in my leg was gone, but the bad news was that it moved to my back. Why don't you get on a plane?

The "tweak" in my back prior to my last race had turned into a knot the size of an walnut. The walnut turned into an apricot by Tuesday. Not enough Ibuprofen in my briefcase to knock that knot out. I was lusting after the emergency Vicodin in my medicince cabinet at home. No, I'm not Brett Farve, but this was some serious pain.

Once in the bay area, I figured a swim might "loosen up" the apricot so I plotted a workout at the local 24 hour fitness with a one mile swim. Good swim, but the apicot was not going away.

I pumped a combination of Ibuprofen and Tylenol with little relief. It did not help that I spent the day in meetings sitting in chairs. The apricot was growing into a "flank steak"...larger...covering more mass. I was daydreaming about my chiropractor back home who could tweak this back into a happy place. This brings me to the decision of "do I work out, to work it out" or "do I rest this knotty thing?" I'm an "Alpha Male" so you know the answer. I couldn't rise out of a chair without wincing earlier in the day, so why not go out for a goal pace or tempo run? #moron #bullheaded

Okay, "I'm gonna do this," I told myself. I have a Nike bag in my suitcase that always has my swim stuff, and my routine is to always pack what I need for running. Shoes? Check! Shirts? Two, check! Garmin(s)? Check! Socks? Check? Running shorts?....running shorts?...shorts? Forgot them. #WTF I'm determined to make this run happen so I pull out my "Dolphin" swim shorts and combine with a singlet to head out for a run. Good thing I'm in San Francisco because I looked like "Peter Pan" in this outfit. "You think I got where I am today, dressing like Peter Pan here?" (Rex Kwan Do)

This rivals the time I forgot running socks and ran in my black dress socks (nerdville USA.)

I pretended I was wearing compression shorts or I was a triathlete and went about my run. First mile was painful as the apricot/flank steak was twitching like crazy. I picked up the pace and moved towards sub seven minute pace in my "Peter Pan" outfit.  "No pain, no gain," should be "No shame, plenty of pain, questionable gain" as I got 'er done.

It's now Wednesday morning as I write this and I'm still out of town and feeling still feeling knotty.  Please God, give me a seat on an earlier flight and pray that my chiro has an opening today.  Peter Pan needs some "pixie dust."


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