I am not allowed to run for six weeks. The Honolulu Marathon this year is on December 14, which is five weeks away. My nurse said running after six weeks, yes, strenuous running, no. 26.2 is strenuous, I suppose.
It’s only been three days after my surgery. I have done nothing but eat, sleep, watch movies, read, and pop pain killers–I feel like a glutton.
Despite my usual dislikes for sedentary lifestyles, I much enjoy my present gluttonous state. I resumed to minimal work for the last two days, and found that minimal work is the maximum amount I can handle for now. I come home to sleep for hours at a time, and still crave for more. Social engagements do not interest me one bit. Comatose is enticing. Sounds like the onset of an addiction, I am fully aware. Thus I am weaning off of my pain meds to take regular Tylenol instead.
Please find me help if I don’t write again soon. I am probably sleeping.
I feel so happy today. I felt extremely pleasant after our run this morning that I smiled at everyone and everything I saw. The high has worn off a bit as the day progressed, but I am still smiling now as I type.
Back tracking a little, today was only our second club run, repeating what is now our official club route (see map in previous post). After launching the 6@6 ClubTM Inaugural Run with a bang (flashing camera (1) and all), we disbanded temporarily for the July 4th weekend. No one’s schedule matched, so I marched into the gym alone for five miles of pretend running.
Today’s run started at 6 A.M., 6:30, actually. Ivy brought fruit even though it was back to just the two of us. We stretched before the great Pacific, watching numerous surfers riding the white waves. Still unable to ascertain the mile 8 mark, we approximated our start point at the “No Parking” sign.
I started the run with the same thought in my head like many other morning runs: I wish it was raining. Soon, however, the sights and sounds of this route reminded me of our Inaugural Run–an euphoric experience–and my run instantly took on a new direction.
I literally rerun that same run. My legs felt light, my pace was energized, my mind stopped sending “I wish it was raining” signals to my muscles. While I was mentally present in the run, discussing new topics with Ivy, describing to her the crunchy yet juicy ‘haute’ dog I ate last night, my body was running a previous run. At the same spots of the route where I felt a burst of energy last time, a jolt of strength was injected there today.
Suddenly, but again at about mile 5, my legs began to move as if they were motorized. I attempted to slow down because I was unsure of my heart’s capability of handling the speed my legs wished to turn. But they defiantly ignored the feeble signals of the mind, and dashed up those hills while the rest of my body tried to catch up. I finished shaving nearly 3 minutes off of my Inaugural Run time. My only thought, then, was “could the hot dog be responsible for this?”
Or perhaps the body has a much better memory than I realized.