Nachos, Cheers and Lucky Beer

So today at work I heard someone say something about Lucky beer and I nearly laughed out loud! Man, now that took me back twenty something years to the long nights my first college roommate and teammate Phil spent eating nachos, watching Cheers and enjoying a few cheap Lucky beers when we more than likely should have been studying or at least getting some sleep before the next day's work-out. I love talking about the glory days of my little DII cross country and track program at SSU and how well we done, but truth be told, there was a period of time when I first got there, well, lets just say, running was not priority number one.

This not to say we didn't want to improve and run fast, it was just that we wanted to have a little more fun than should be legal. What a cast of characters we were. My college teammates were this rag-tag group of college running rejects and misfits, but we had a passion for life and made the most out of every minute that we could. Hell, even our coach was a character who was always fast with a joke or prank. No wonder I miss those days. I think I laughed more in that first year than I have in the last twenty. From hog-tying a freshmen teammate to hitchhiking in Ashland, Oregon to calling up Pat Porter after one too many to wish him good luck to eating $2 burritos to dashing out of bushes with no socks to being lost on a 20 mile run in Tahoe to jelly donuts after a Sunday long run, those are the memories that flood my mind each every time I lace up and crank out a few miles.

So as I sit here and go back in time, here's to you, all my SSU teammates and thank God we have moved beyond Lucky beer! Although, I think I will heat up some nachos in the microwave and tune into Cheers on the cable and laugh a little.

Back to Square One

Well, it's back to square one. That seems to be the story of my post 40 adventures in running, however, it is Sunday, it is sunny, and I get to run. Slow and easy and feeling like a newbie. But hey, the foot is a little tender, but other than that, it felt good. I am definitely finding that the older I get, the more and more I appreciate those days that I get to feel the sun on my back and the coolness of a sweat soaked t-shirt clinging to my torso. Even a little chub rub is not that bad at this point.

So since I am coming off of a plantar fasciitis injury, I thought today I would share a link to arguably the best over 40 distance runner in America, Pete Magill's article in Running Times on stretching and injury prevention exercises that all of us should be implementing in our daily training. Enjoy the reading and as always, stay healthy and keep running. Running Times Magazine: Magill on Masters: Mastering Common Injuries
runningtimes.com

Still Love It

Tomorrow is going to be an exciting day; I get to run again! Two weeks turned into three and a bad bone bruise morphed to plantar fasciitis and all my plans to work on core and cross train went flying out the window. Bottom line, I hate the bike. There is just some places a man should not have calluses! (Sorry to all my friends who ride, it just is not my thing.) So that means tonight will be a restless night. To make matters worse, I even bought a new pair of Nike Lunar trainers to celebrate and I can't wait to try those bad boys out on the trail.

Now comes the hard part. The next two weeks I need to reel myself in and limit my running to just a few miles each day. With the Masters World Masters just eight weeks away, as much as I wanted to go into the meet in the best shape of my post 40 self, it just is not going to happen. Six weeks is just to short of a time to round into great shape. However, it is plenty of time to drop a few pounds, put in some really great runs, a few track work-outs and get excited to venture onto the track for the first time since 1993.

Last weekend I watched "The Rookie" with my kids and when the part in the movie when Jimmy Morris' wife asked him if he still loved playing baseball, I literally teared up. My oldest daughter looking at me like I was from some distant planet, blurts out, "are you crying?!" Allergies. Bottom line, I still love this crazy sport. It doesn't matter if I finish dead last and get lapped multiple times, I am going to still love every minute of sweating out lap, after glorious lap in the mid-July Sacramento night heat. I may not get to play baseball, but I do get to run. So tomorrow morning when I wake up and step out the back door, I am going to smile, thank God, and know, once again, I get to do what I love to do. I may have been knocked down with this injury, but not out.

So it is off to get some rest and dream of pulling on that blue USA singlet, lacing up those Nike racing flats and being grateful that after 30 years of running, I still get to be that same 14 year old kid for a few minutes who dreamed big and ran for the pure fun of it. As always, stay healthy and keep running.

Cortisone

Well, I went to the podiatrist today for my follow up visit from two weeks ago and he was a little concerned that I was still feeling pain, even though I have not ran a step since I saw him. "Sounds like we should take an X-ray!" So, down the hall I went to do a little foot modeling. Lo and behold, my little right foot put on a show. Not one, not two, but three little jagged bone spurs now make my heel bone sparkle and a hot inflamed plantar fascia stole the show. At least there was no little cracks in the heel bone.

Of course the first question out of my mouth was, "How soon can I run?" In which the doc responded with, "Do you want the needle?" No hesitation.

Now, I have had several cortisone shots before and I am well acquainted with that hot, burning liquid oozing into your every fiber of enlarged nerve endings, but today was one new adventure I was not prepared for! As the nurse unsheathed the blade of flaming juice to penetrate my flesh and bone, I gasped at how long the instrument of torture was. Then when the doc prodded my unsuspecting muscular structure, I could have swore I was going to both crap and piss blazing fluids. Holy sweet mother of all that is good, that stinking hurts! My nostrils flared. My sphincter tightened. My tongue swelled. Sweat formed on my brow as my life flashed before me. Grunting and moaning, hoping nothing came out as a wildebeest in heat, I clenched the armrests of the medical chair, hanging on to a thread of pride in order to not cry. With every plunge of the needle, I prayed that I would not need any toilet paper as I writhed in place. Nothing like a grownn man straining to keep his entrails and their contents in their proper place. Finally, after what seemed an infinite course in the demonstration of ancient torture techniques, the slithering metal snake slipped from my heel and I could once more breath.

So here is hoping that by the end of the week I will be able to run a few miles each day for a week or two and be back to full training soon. So, I raise up a toast to you old magical friend to athletes, cortisone, and here is hoping that your potion of healing will do its trick. This old man is itching to get back out there on the trails, canals and soft surfaces.

As always, stay healthy, keep running, and here is hoping that you will never have to experience the cortisone blues.