shaved and taped

weekend distance:  8 miles
on the iPod:  "disturbia" -- rihanna


There are plenty of ways to manipulate situations and circumstances in life, to put off the inevitable or procrastinate just a little bit longer.  I'm the king of procrastination and i've built one helluva castle for myself.  But a calendar never lies, and when I take a look at mine i'm realizing that this weekend is pretty much four months away from the apex of fall marathon season.  The Chicago Marathon, on October 7th, is calling my name and taking shape for a really swell threepeat.  No matter who you slice it:  that's four months away!  16 weeks.  112 days.  2,688 hours.  161,280 minutes.


Of course running the New York City Marathon in November is going to be monumental, if not overwhelming and scary, and I find myself thinking about it daily.  A 26.2 mile tour of all five boroughs in the world's greatest city, ending in Manhattan's Central Park, might possibly be my shining moment.  But equally amazing and important to me will be Chicago.  I can't explain why, and certainly don't purport to have any special connection to the city, but the Chicago Marathon is  starting to hold a specific place in my running calendar.  To be specific, I don't think i've ever had so much f*cking fun than running that race.  Ever.


So with the goal in mind of running two marathons in the span of a single month's time, I've  eased in to a training schedule that finds me still a bit bruised up and fighting plantar fasciitis.  The intelligent move would probably be to lay low for the summer and put running on a back shelf for a while, but I can't bring myself to do it.  I simply love it too much to walk away, especially during the summer months when the sun is shining down, the days are long, the mornings are beautifully quiet, and there's not a care in the world.  Running is my salve against uncertainty and self-doubt, and it produces a calm on my soul that is unmeasurable.  There's no looking back, so instead there's modification.


I finally broke down and made an appointment with Dr. Bennington, a sports injury guy in Bentonville that comes highly touted from multiple sources, including my good friends Mrs. Pugh and Jamie Huneycutt.  He did great work on their hip and knee respectively, so what's a little plantar to a guy like that, right?  The plan is to work with him for about three weeks and, with continued maintenance throughout that summer that I can do myself, wipe it out once and for all.  So when not running I spend my days rolling my foot on a tennis ball, spelling the alphabet with my big toe, completing various and sundry leg stretches in front of God and all of the Northwest Arkansas populus,  grabbing marbles off the rug with my toes, and wearing orthotics at all times.  No Chacos, no barefoot.  Those are forbidden.  


And there's one other small nuance to the plan to wipe out plantar fasciitis.  One minor detail.  One more cog in the wheel of holistic treatment.  Rock tape.  


Resembling some sort of non-descript yet freaky tribal tattoo artwork when applied, rock tape functions to pull skin and muscle up and away from an injured area in an effort to increase bloodflow.  Apparently bloodflow to an injury is good.  While not necessarily aversive to any sort of treatment that would help with the plantar fasciitis, I also wasn't particularly jazzed about having tape run up the side of my leg because, of course, at some point it's got to get ripped off, along with it a sizeable portion of hair.  I've never been a fan of pain.  Not to worry, explained Dr. Bennington, because the rock tape wouldn't work on my legs because they were too hairy in the first place.  Which, of course, meant that i'd have to shave them first.  


What?  Say that again, please.  Shave my leg?  I didn't sign up for this.  I just want to run, damnit.


But after thinking about it for a few minutes and allowing it to sink in, I decided that if shaving and taping would help with the injury then I should suck it up and get it over with.  So there I was the next morning, fresh out of the shower, towel wrapped around my waist, with one leg in the tub ready to go smooth.  It never dawned on me to start with an electric trimmer, so after 20 minutes of using a straight razor I'd successfully removed enough hair to get by and solidify the notion that i'd never done this before.  My leg looked like a miserable, scraggly, mangy mess, but I was cranky and worn out and running late so it would have to suffice.  Throwing any dignity I had left to the wind, I threw on jeans to conceal my shame, vowing to ask Mrs. Murie to give me pointers on how in the hell to shave my legs.  Or maybe even beg her to do it for me next time.  


After the second trip to Dr. Bennington's office,  with rock tape successfully applied and a few giggles from his female office staff, I was cleared to run a short distance and gauge my progress.  I left his office and drove straight to the trail system for a three mile out-and-back.  It was the first pain-free run i'd had since before the Nashville Marathon.


Building on the success, Mrs. Murie and I met early Saturday morning for a distance run.  Even though it looks like we won't be running races together this fall for a few different reasons, I really hope that we get some solid mileage in together throughout the summer.  Her friendship is one of the greatest gifts i've been given, not to mention her running prowess and generally badassery on the trails.  I'm hoping we can find a good destination half-marathon somewhere, because I'm completely aware of just exactly how much i'm going to miss her in Chicago and New York.  It will be bittersweet.  


And as much as things will have to change in this upcoming training season, whether due to nagging injuries or schedules and conflicts, some things will stay the same:  good coffee and  conversation after a long run with the people I love.  We finished at Starbucks and enjoyed sunshine and a mild breeze on the patio, enjoying all that life has to offer two teachers in the gorgeous summer months.  While we sat and relaxed, I patiently rolled my foot on the tennis ball and thought about how incredibly blessed I am.  Injuries and life's complications aside, i've found who I am and what I should be doing in running, and that makes me happy.