Last night on my way home from a client, I took a sharp right turn, banged my tire against the curve and heard a loud POP sound. I pulled over and took a look at my right front tire which was a dead flat (or flat dead). It took me about 15 minutes to change it. Luckily I was on a side street and out of major traffic but it was still tough to get the flat off and get the spare on. It's not the doing it but the tugging, lifting and pulling that beat me up. Sue and I were supposed to go out to dinner but she took pity on me and went out and picked up a pizza. So I came home, bloody (I scraped arms up), dirty and sweaty but ready to go out but we ended up staying in and watching TV having dinner on the bed.
When I woke up this morning I felt like I had played a tough, hard hitting game of soccer. My legs and arms were just plain sore. Jake and I were scheduled fora trial run so we warmed up 2.7 and then came back to our starting point. I stood there for 30 seconds while Jake got a head start. Then I went. I could tell within a quarter mile that things were not right. I felt like I was dragging my body along instead of running for a fast time. It took a long time to catch Jake. I went by him and hit the turnaround at 10:17 which was around 17 seconds behind goal. I did a short run in place as Jake came up and I paced him back in. I ran 20:10 and Jake was in the 20:40's.
Neither of us hit our goals. Jake did not break 20 minutes and I failed to break 19. We both admitted afterwards that it had not been a good day to die. Hoka Hey! We staggered through the warm down and went for breakfast.
I went home and soaked for 10 minutes in an ice bath. I get a massage and chiro on Thursday. It won't be too soon.
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