Not exactly the sort of picture that makes you want to go do anything outside.
I just couldn’t take it any more.
My hip hasn’t hurt for a few days. This would be a good thing, except that I finally have my appointment with the orthopedist tomorrow to find out what’s been wrong with it for more than a year. Hard to convince a doctor that there’s something wrong, when it’s not wrong right then.
I haven’t run in three weeks. I’ve been doing more than a little cycling, but I haven’t run more than a few steps since falling apart at my last half marathon. And honestly, I miss it. I miss moving fast under my own power, I miss the rhythm of my breathing with my footsteps, and I miss being able to take my dog around the neighborhood in less than an hour. Seriously, I never realized just how time consuming it is to walk the dog, until I had to walk the dog. Ugh.
I had been moping around the house all day, the weather contaminating my mood until I was blerching it out on the couch, playing Xbox and eating stuff. Any kind of stuff. Finally, I shook it off. I needed a run, or at least a jog. That it was gusting and spitting rain outside was irrelevant. I’ve got rain gear for that.
So I ran anyway. Despite the weather, and my cruddy mood, and my ongoing injuries, and the inviting, comfortable glow of my TV, I ran anyway. And it was fantastic. I took Max with me, and we sluffed along at a 10 minute mile for a little over three miles. It was windy, and we were wet, and I was sweating under my rain jacket. But it was glorious. It felt so good to be out running, and it felt better to be out when others would choose not to be.
My hip only hurt the slightest bit, so maybe that’s a hopeful sign. I’ve said before that I never really started running until somebody told me I couldn’t. It might make me a hard headed bastard, but that sort of thing continues to be pretty solid motivation, for me. If I’m hurt, if the weather’s crappy, I just want to run anyway.