Age does not equal smarts

Intellectually, I should know that running on pavement is harder on my legs than running on a nice cushy treadmill.

Intellectually, I should know that running with a pulled left hamstring is not a great idea.

In reality, I didn't think of either one. My adventure started last Saturday. It was a beautiful warm sunny day here in Michigan, so I did a little clean-up gardening. I woke up Sunday with a sore left hamstring, but thought nothing of it since I usually get one from gardening every year.

It was another nice warm sunny day on Sunday, so I went for a run. The run went pretty well. I wasn't used to the warm temp, but otherwise not bad. The leg loosened up after the first 1/2 mile or so, and I was in good shape.

Monday, I wanted to try running in the great outdoors again. I took the same route, and it was also warm that day. The ham was still a bit sore, but the run went okay. Running outside was tough on my inner thigh muscle (whatever you call that), but overall a decent experience.

Then we come to Tuesday. At this point, I'm becoming obsessed with the outside run. I want to go farther, faster. I'm calculating my workout week, and I want to squeeze in another run since I won't be able to do it the next day (which would mean two days off). The temp had dropped to a little below 60F, so it was cooler than it had been. My ham is still sore, but I'm thinking "Why not? I made it fine on Sunday and Monday. What's one more day?" Did I mention that I haven't been doing pavement running since I started? So, I take off on my new 2.2 mile route. It's going ok, not too hot, but geez my left leg just can't seem to get a good stride. I'm running short on that side, and I feel like an old guy shuffling along. I make it a bit over 1 mile at this point, so I decide to take my walk break and give it a rest. After about 3 minutes, I decide to gear up for the rest of the way home. I start off and ohh! My side-thigh muscle thingie hurts like crazy! And ohh! My left groin muscles starts to hurt too! My stride in my left leg is getting smaller and smaller as the ham starts to tighten up even more. At this point, I'm still .7 miles from home and I realize. I have to do the Runner's Walk of Shame to get back to the house. If I keep running like this, I'm going to end up like Quasimodo on a bad day. And did I mention the back of my knee is killing me at this point, too? And that the last 2/10 of a mile is a 10% or so grade up my street?

When finally limped in the front door, I realize my husband has been checking out said limp since I hit our driveway. I got the Dad treatment, fo' sure. "I told you not to kill yourself" (can't collect on the insurance if I do, huh?) "Did you take your cell phone with you? No? What if you fall dead on the street?" (Then I'm dead) "Oh, sweetie" (Oh sweetie).

I promptly hit the garden tub upstairs and soaked that sucker for an hour in scalding water. It did help, and by today (2 days later) I'm good as new. My husband won't be home after work tonight, so maybe I can sneak out again...hmmmm....

-Kim