......And, Boy, Are My Arms Tired!

Uh oh. From the first steps yesterday, the top of my right foot squealed.

My penance for not doing enough rolling, this foot increases its size and squealing when my calf is too tight. Which it, apparently, is.

I knew from there that this run would be a test, a challenge for my body but, more importantly, for my mind. Why not just turn back now? It's going to hurt so why prolong the pain?

But, the massive amounts of food I had eaten the night before 'carbo-loading' and the fact that I was supposed to meet Ivy League spurred me on. Ouch. Downhill was worse.

I had poked my foot, hard. I didn't pass out. So I knew I hadn't fractured anything. My main goal was to just try to forget about it. Otherwise, I might start to favor it and injure something else.

Luckily, other stuff started to hurt fairly soon into the run. Whew.

I ran a semi-frustrating 3.86 before meeting Ivy League for the main event. Try running down Eastern Parkway at 8 something in the morning when you have somehow magically callibrated your stride to hit every single light as it cycles to red!

A likely ill-advised sprint through some cars on Schenectady solved this problem. The way back to GAP, I was back on the green cycle. Eastern Parkway's traffic is nothing if not predictable. Thank you, city planners!

A big part of getting out the door in these intemperate times involves me being not-horribly-freezing when I step out the door. Too little clothing and this little bunny hops right back inside, all the way up to bed with the covers over her head.

Of course, being the temperature weenie that I am, not-horribly-freezing in 34 degree weather requires gloves, a hat, a long-sleeved shirt, a long-sleeved thermal, a winter running jacket and thick tights. And a debate about whether another pair of pants is warranted. I really hate it when my butt goes numb.

So, of course, by the time I reach Ivy League, I have stripped myself of the hat and am wishing I didn't have one of the top layers. There was little wind yesterday and the sun was shining. But my Gus were in the jacket, so I didn't want to leave it somewhere. I tied it around my waist, loosened my shoe in the vain hope that my foot would hurt less, picked up my water bottles and we shoved off.

Yes, I did bring the water bottles. The run we had planned involved little water fountain possibilities. Plus, due to the inclement weather recently, any errant fountain was likely to be a false oasis: appearing to offer aid but coming up dry.

I hadn't run with water bottles since my last long run before New York. And I'd been slacking on my push-ups, bigtime. This will be important. But it seemed pretty innocent at the time. After all, water bottles don't weigh very much, do they?

From GAP, we headed down to Rogers. Our ultimate goal was Bedford but the Vivacious Redhead and I have learned that it is highly advisable to skip the top part of Bedford, near Eastern Parkway, during the time of day at which Ivy League and I were running.

Down the hill, my foot aching, we ran. Down, down, down. We had scheduled this run when a plan to go to Manhattan and run rolling hills fell through. "Sorry! Maybe I should have planned the run so that we would have had to run up this hill!"

Later, I remembered that long, slightly rising runs have their own challenges. Like no downhills where you can catch your breath.

Legs tired from fartleks and our respective runs the day prior, Ivy League and I decided it would be better to finish the whole run than to really push it going down to the water. So off we went, at a respectable but not even semi-fast pace. It was faster than walking, anyway.

Fun fact: if you really need to use the bathroom on a run, go to the nearest laundromat. They almost always have bathrooms and they don't have the attendant peering suspiciously and dissaprovingly at you as you race past the merchandise they are trying to sell in other possible bathroom venues.

At Empire, we crossed back over to Bedford. All the way down Bedford we ran, just above a trundle. Down, down, down. Down past Avenue Z, we started looking for Emmons. It was hard to miss: were we to try to continue straight, we would have found ourselves in a (likely-freezing) body of water. Here's where the directions got a bit whacky.

I had mapped the run and had written down the instructions. But some parts of Brooklyn are resistant to such technological innovations. Especially places like Sheepshead Bay, where we now found ourselves. In typical resistance fashion, the streets did not do what the map said they did. First, we overshot West End, turning around only when we realized that we were almost in Brighton Beach, where we didn't want to go.

Then, we kept looking for a cross street that never materialized. Ah, well. At least we saw the ocean.

We scrapped the mysterious loop scheduled for us down there and headed back towards Emmons Avenue. The resistance had won, this time. Next time, we might come armed with GPS.

This is where our run might have been cut a bit short, as our times were too fast for how slowly we were running. Although we did overshoot several streets, I don't think it completely made up for our lack of loop.

Ivy League made up for it later, flying solo, as we will see.

So, we get back to Bedford. Ivy League is in full auto-zone mode: he is running lights like he's the Chestershire Cat or Story Finder. I, however, value my toes. Plus, I am a bit behind him, so the light has been green longer by the time I get there.

Three such lights at major thoroughfares happen. I am further and further behind. "Too bad for him. I'm the one with the water!" I decide to stop and try to find a Gu in the voluminous back pocket of my jacket that is now twisted in very strange ways. It takes several minutes. I'd tell Ivy League but he is too far ahead to hear my scream, strident as my voice is.

After eating my last half Gu, I slip on my headphones. A nice solitary run is in the cards for the way back. I count the streets down backwards.

I really have no idea how state troopers can ask, in all seriousness, for someone to recite the alphabet backwards as a sobriety test. I was trying to anticipate the street coming up, as my arms were so tired that my poor shoulders ached.

To do so, I had to recite the alphabet forwards first. And there really was just water in those water bottles, folks!

Note to self: you know you've been slacking on your pushups when, on your first 18-miler in almost a month, your arms are what is aching the most. I could barely feel the ache in my foot, though!

Getting stopped at Kings Highway iced it. I knew that Ivy League was too far ahead of me now for me to even attempt to look for him. "I'll just meet him at the corner of H and Nostrand, where the 2 comes in."

Hah. Someone didn't listen to directions!

I got to I and gratefully turned right to make my first left on Nostrand. I didn't see Ivy League anywhere. Panic rose up in my throat.

I've always had an isue with being lost or not being able to find people. Just ask my ex, who used to wander around the grocery store without telling me where he was going. "Stop paging me over the intercom!" was a common theme in our post-grocery conversations.

"Don't panic. I'm sure he's not hurt." I search everywhere: subway,streets, Applebee's. I contemplated asking the police officers on the corner if they had seen a weirdly dressed man with a navy and orange hat go by.
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"Hello!" Arms waving. Thank goodness! I found him! Or, he found me, to be more precise. Having forgotten the directions (which, let's face it, most of us have at some point), he had continued on I. Having long-run brain, it took him until he was almost at Utica to realize that he had missed a turn.

At least he got in the extra mile or so we must have missed by losing the loop at the bottom! Knowing he wasn't injured in a ditch, I instantly felt better.

Though, had he be injured in a ditch, how would I have found him? What could I have done, had I found him? Threw him over my shoulder and carried him? More evidence as to how irrational fears are, in fact, irrational. Why fear something if you can't do anything about it, were it to happen?

We made a plan for next time: loop back earlier and, were this situation to happen again, wait 10 minutes and then just get on the subway home.

Makes good sense to me. I like me a plan.

Great subway ride home, after scarfing some food. Hungry!

So tired at my meeting, later, that I actually bought caffeinated tea in the middle of the afternoon.

My shoulders and forearms ached all evening. This morning, my right forearm still aches.

It pulses nicely with the top of my right foot. An off-tempo rhythm to start my day off right!

Now, to go meet Gorgeous, if I can make it out the door. Sigh.