Follow me as I recover from a debilitating running injury that left me sidelined for over a year. I'll sporadically chronicle my rehabilitation from an SI joint injury with entertaining asides and music videos.
At some point along the road to recovery, I knew I would have to get back on the horse and enter a 5K -- a real bona fide, sanctioned, timed running event.
I was putting it off until my pace had improved. I didn't want to run the risk of entering a 5K and finishing in over 30 minutes.
Turned out I had nothing to worry about.
Yesterday, I ran the Downtown Melbourne 5K, a charity run for The Haven for Children, a home for neglected and abused kids managed by my favorite shoe store, The Running Zone.
It was my first in two years. And I did it with brand new shoes: a pair of Brooks Ghosts.
I finished in 26:00.6, not my PR but a respectable 8:23 pace. I actually blazed the first mile out in 8:02.
I rewarded myself with a therapeutic massage after the race.
Frankly, I was surprised I did as well.
I'd been running e months for about four months following the steroid injection therapy into my SI joint, upping the mileage each week, trying to quicken my pace and gauging the pain afterwards.
I was afraid I'd never be able to run faster than a 9:15 pace. Glad I was wrong about that.
Next step, to up the ante. Get my pace down to 8 minutes per mile by the Melbourne Springtime Arts Festival 5K at the end of the month. My goal is 24 minutes.
See you at the finish line.
And now, here's Placebo doing their kick-ass version of "Running up that Hill."
After walking all over New York, pushing the envelope on my running schedule and swimming routines, my body pushed back.
Enough! said my hip. Give it a rest! said my shoulder.
My rib heads were popping out and my SI joint was burning.
So I decided to lay off today, and went to see my chiropractor and massage therapist.
The visit was long overdue.
John, my chiropractor, did what he could for my rib heads, adjusting me, applying moist heat and using the drop table to loosen me up.
Then he sent me into Tony for a 15-minute massage before taping up my shoulder and hip with Kinesio tape.
Something new. Kinesio taping has been promoted strongly by Japanese chiropractor Kenzo Kase. The book John lent me came with a huge disclaimer that he is not offering medical advice.
Kinesio taping is widely used by orphopedists, chiropractors, sports trainers and others as a way to treat inflammation.
Unlike traditional athletic tape, which compresses the muscles and restricts movement, Kinesio taping allows for free range of motion without over-extension, and widens the space between the skin and muscles to promote the flow of lymphatic fluid, according to Kase's manual.
Getting the lymphatic fluid moving supposedly helps reduce the inflammation causing all that pain in the first place.
John taped up my right back shoulder area and hip and told me to leave it on for 2-3 days to let it work. It's waterproof so I can swim and shower in it.
Running around Manhattan for four days must have been just the cross-training I needed because the second day I got home I ran 9 miles at a solid 10-minute pace.
That was the good part.
The downside of all this is that about eight hours later I was having a blazing muscle spasm in my left hip.
That was odd. I've spent the last 18 months recuperating from an injury to my right hip's SI Joint, culminating in three months of steroid injections.
So what's this?
Fortunately, the spasms hit toward the end of the work day. I managed to get through the last hour, walked out to my car and popped a Tramadol and a muscle relaxer. By the time I got home, the pain was subsiding a little bit. Two glasses of Cotes du Rhone later and the pain was gone.
This morning, I feel like my old self again. Which is to say, a little sore but ready to run.
Maybe I'm ready for a half-marathon, after all.
And now, here's The Stranglers, with "Something Better Change."
When you haven't run real distances in a while, say anything over 4-5 miles, you sometimes forget one crucial ingredient: grease.
Last week, when I wound up running 9 miles, I forgot to grease up the legs and I suffered all day for it with raw, chafed skin on my inner thighs.
Today, before I kicked off a moderate 7.5 miler, I applied Vaseline to the upper legs.
What a difference a little lube job can make.
So, from now on, whenever I run over 6 miles, out comes the jar of petroleum jelly.
The hard part is washing it off afterwards. I recommend Dr. Bronner's peppermint castile soap.
For the record: 7.5 miles at 1:18:52 for a moderate 10:30 pace. That's far off from what I was running before my SI Joint and hip socket injuries, but I'll take it.
The idea for now is to increase distance on weekends, and increase pace during the shorter runs during the week.
Swimming complements the road work perfectly. The muscles I work out running get a rest when I swim, and the swimming strengthens the core for when I'm running.
Thursday's swim was so much better than Monday's. I cannot wait to get into the pool again.
And now, for your musical entertainment, here's the original video of Flaming Lips doing "She Don't Use Jelly."
So, what do I do after a day of wellness and self-indulgence? I go out and run 9 miles, setting a 10.8 minute pace, which translates into a middling 5.55 mph.
I'm not crazy about the near-11 minute pace, but it could be worse. At least I am UNDER an 11-minute pace and I knew I ran faster on the first half going out than on the return leg.
Still and all, not bad for a 52-year-old guy whose doctor advised him not to run more than four miles a day. Heck, I didn't think I'd be able to run more than five or six miles in a single outing at this stage in my recovery. It's only been two months since the end of my steroid injection treatments.
I have to say, however, my SI joint and hip ball socket are on fire, and the right thigh is cramping. Ice and Meloxicam are the order of the day, with a side dish of Tramadol and a muscle relaxer, along with some good old-fashioned stretching.
And Gatorade to replenish those pesky electrolytes.
Speaking of: As I pulled a Gatorade out of the fridge after my run, I flashed on the scene in "127 Hours" where Aron Ralston, his arm pinned to a canyon wall by a medium-sized boulder, remembers the bottle of Gatorade he left in the back of his SUV. Great movie. Never leave home without your Swiss Army Knife, because a cheap-ass multitool just doesn't cut it.
Fish gotta swim. Birds gotta fly. I gotta run.
As far as the swimming goes, so far it's been very good for me, toning the abdominal and lower back muscles, working on my upper body. More than likely I will hit the pool later in the day for some laps.
As I close, I'm left wondering what to play for you. "Once in a Lifetime"? "I Wanna Be Your Dog"? How about "Lust for Life"? That seems appropriate.
I like to run in the fog in the early morning before dawn. There is a quiet to the city, a stillness. Being the only one on the road as the fog rolled in this morning made me feel like the sole inhabitant of the universe.
At least until I hit the Melbourne Causeway and encountered several walkers and a few high school track runners.
By then the fog was thick, and the moisture suspended in its fabric like big fat raindrops
Maybe it was because of the fog I pushed the envelope a bit this morning, running 5.5 miles instead of the usual four. That qualifies as a long run for me, and the first run over four miles in about four months.
And it's the first time in months I hauled my butt over the Melbourne Causeway and back.
I'm not going to crow about my performance, running at just about a 10:45 pace. The important thing is I did it, without strain or injury to my back or right hip. That alone is worthy of a victory lap.
This week is another milestone: two months since my last epidural steroid injection into my right SI joint and hip. Two months and I feel better than ever. Not perfect, mind you. But if I can sustain this regimen and keep working on my pace, I should be close to my old performance standards in a few months.
On another note, had my annual physical. Everything is working great: Kidney function like that of an 18-year-old, great liver function, and a heart like a horse. Glucose a bit elevated, white cell count down a bit. But nothing to worry about. Keep running!
I couldn't believe my clip odometer when it read that I'd run 4 miles in just 22 minutes. No Way! That would put me in Chuck Engle territory. Jim Thorpe.Frank Shorter. Jim Ryun. Alberto Salazar.
Something screwed up inside my ODO between 6:28 a.m. and 6:50 a.m.
Soon as I got into the house I checked the time on the microwave oven. 7:07 a.m. OK, so that's 39 minutes from the time I started my ODO to seeing the clock on the microwave. Even that would be respectable -- my first 4-miler in under 40 minutes!
But taking into account the ODO and microwave are on separate schedules, and the five minutes it took me to stop, grab the paper and unlock the door, pet the cats and take of my gloves, I think I can safely subtract four to five minutes. Thirty-four minutes would be an 8:30 pace! OK, let's say 35 minutes just to quell any skeptics out there. That is still breaking the 9:00 pace barrier.
And, it's nine minutes faster than the 43 minutes it took to run the same same distance yesterday.
I have not run four miles in less than 40 minutes since I can remember. To run it at a sub-9 pace, even more astounding! Give me a moment, I am obviously not finished being amazed at my progress.
I give full credit to the freezing fucking weather this morning. Two long-sleeve sweaters, fleece jacket, ski cap and gloves below 30 weather! In Florida!
And my doctor's care. Those steroid injections into my right SI joint over three months really worked. And the daily regimen of anti-inflammatory drugs. Does Meloxicam qualify as a performance-enhancing drug. What about a glass or two of Malbec the night before?
I hadn't planned to enter a 5k until the Melbourne Spring Arts Festival in April, but at this rate of progress, I think I'll sign up for that race February 5 my friend Rick was telling me about.
And now, Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band have a few words for you.
I thought I'd give everyone a break from all the whining about back aches and hip problems and knee pain until I had something substantial to report.
Now, I do. I'm back to a regular running schedule -- four miles a day, three days a week just to get back into the groove, and I've already dropped my pace by almost two minutes -- from well over 12 minutes to just under 11 minutes. It is a good feeling to move along at a 10:30 pace, even if it's a far way off from the under 9-minute pace I need to set for myself to beat certain people I trash-talked last week.
The biggest news is that for the first time since I began running again, I didn't have that hip socket pounding that had been plaguing me, and my SI joint didn't flare up. That is true progress.
I had laid off running for about a month over the holidays. I was having serious hip pain on both sides, right above the posterior saddle. And the SI joint, blah blah blah. I fought it with anti-inflammatories, ice packs and pain killers and just good old fashioned slackitude. Nothing like lazing around for two weeks watching TV, reading books, eating junk food and guzzling red wine for proper R&R.
But when I got on the scale and saw my weight had climbed over 210, I had to take action. I decided, Fuck this pain, it's just something I'm going to have to live with, laced up my running shoes and hit the road. And it felt like hell, the femur grinding into my hip socket, sending sharp stabbing pain into my SI joint.
Ice and Tramadol followed.
Two days later, I went out again. Ran four miles. Pounded away like a lumbering ox. Ice and pills.
Saturday, I had my first breakthrough. Ran four miles at a 10:35 pace. Ice. Pills.
Sunday. Forty minutes of yoga. No running. No ice. No pills.
Monday. Every muscle in my body ached from the yoga.
Today (Tuesday): Ran four miles. Feeling no pain. Yet.
My body is an ever-loving mystery. All the aches and pains, the quirks, the routines I need to adhere to so I can get out of bed, straighten my back and walk into the kitchen to feed the cats and make the coffee.
As I get older, things happen that can only be explained by the phrase: "Welcome to middle age."
Case in point: I ran four miles this morning. No problem. Actually felt pretty good except for the depressing fact that it took me 45 minutes to run what I used to do in 35 or less on a good day.
Now 45 is a good day.
So I showered, dressed for the day and went into the kitchen to unload the dishwasher. And wouldn't you know it, my hip socket popped something fierce. Not "Ive-fallen-and-can't-get-up" fierce. But just the same, I had to go hobbling to the medicine cabinet for some meds: Metaxalone and Tramadol.
After I threw down the meds, I hobbled back to the kitchen, pulled an ice pack out of the freezer and eased myself onto the couch for some R&R.
And it set me wondering: how is it I can run four miles without a hitch, but when I twist or pivot from one side to the other, my right thigh bone feels like it's popping out of my hip socket.
My former primary care physician said it's arthritis, and that the only cure would be surgery.
I don't think so, and that's why he is my former primary care physician. I mean, what is it about doctors who think the answer to everything is surgery?
Now that I've had this series of steroid injections for my SI Joint, it's time to focus on the hip socket-thigh joint. Deep tissue massage has relieved the symptoms to a degree, but there must be something else going on.
OK, so I am not the fastest runner in the universe. Never was. Not even in high school.
But I wasn't the slowest, either.
And as a middle-aged adult, I was putting in respectable times, 22-23 minutes for 5ks, finishing the first half of a marathon in under two hours, hitting a personal marathon record of 4.06 two years ago at age 50!
So when this hip injury sidelined me, I was bummed. I was on my way to breaking the four-hour marathon!
But I had to stop running for a year, until I finally got diagnosed with a Sacro-ilial joint injury and got referred to a specialist for steroid injections. He told me to stop running until he was through treating me.
After my last steroid injection, he advised that I could run again, but not all out like I used to run. Two-three miles at the most. He said my disks were so shot, running for me was akin to riding on the rims of a car after the tires had blown.
I wouldn't want to take a car like that out to Daytona, would I?
I've got news for him: I couldn't if I wanted to.
Now, I find myself running at a 10-11 minute pace, barely covering 3 miles in under 40 minutes. I suppose that is what my doctor had in mind when he said to "use it, but cruise it."
Today was my fourth run since he gave me the green light. I'd say my pace has picked up since that first run, and the pain doesn't increase after a run. Those are good signs. My goal is to slowly and steadily improve my pace to under 10 minutes a mile.
Ultimately, I want to get to where a 9-minute pace feels like cruising, not racing.
And I want to lose another 20 pounds. I reached 205 this morning, good for 6'1" but be better. I still feel like I'm holding a 20-pound bowling ball in my lap when I sit down.
Slowly, once again, I am becoming master of my own universe.
OK, so I am not the fastest runner in the universe. Never was. Not even in high school.
But I wasn't the slowest, either.
And as a middle-aged adult, I was putting in respectable times, 22-23 minutes for 5ks, finishing the first half of a marathon in under two hours, hitting a personal record of 4.06 two years ago at age 50!
So when this hip injury sidelined me, I was bummed. I was on my way to breaking the four-hour marathon!
But I had to stop running for a year, until I finally got diagnosed with a Sacro-ilial joint injury and got referred to a specialist for steroid injections. He told me to stop running until he was through treating me.
After my last steroid injection, he advised that I could run again, but not all out like I used to run. Two-three miles at the most. He said my disks were so shot, running for me was akin to riding on the rims of a car after the tires had blown.
I wouldn't want to take a car like that out to Daytona, would I?
I've got news for him: I couldn't if I wanted to.
Now, I find myself running at a 10-11 minute pace, barely covering 3 miles in under 40 minutes. I suppose that is what my doctor had in mind when he said to "use it, but cruise it."
Today was my fourth run since he gave me the green light. I'd say my pace has picked up since that first run, and the pain doesn't increase after a run. Those are good signs. My goal is to slowly and steadily improve my pace to under 10 minutes a mile.
Ultimately, I want to get to where a 9-minute pace feels like cruising, not racing.
And I want to lose another 20 pounds. I reached 205 this morning, good for 6'1" but be better. I still feel like I'm holding a 20-pound bowling ball in my lap when I sit down.
Slowly, once again, I am becoming master of my own universe again.
OK. Right. I've been running on a regular basis for about five, six weeks now, and I think it's time to kick it into high gear. And by that I mean it's time to choose a training program for my next marathon.
It's been a year and several weeks since my last marathon, the grueling Tupelo marathon that blew out my SI Joint and caused piriformis pain so severe I couldn't run for a year. But after the start of my epidural treatments, my condition has improved dramatically. I've actually run one 9.5 mile run and I'm up to about 20 miles a week.
But that puts me in a dilemma when it comes to choosing a workout program. I've used Hal Higdon's Novice II and Intermediate I schedules for my first two marathons, and did pretty well by him (4:36 and 4:09, respectively). But where do I place myself now? Novice? Intermediate? Somewhere in between? Do I start at the beginning, jump in at week four or five, or what?
I ran a 4, and a 7.4, and tomorrow plan to run another 4. That would put me at something like week seven on Novice II, which calls for a 14-mile run Saturday. I don't know if I'm up for that yet. I may be ready for an 11-miler, and I've got the course plotted out already (my house to Melbourne Beach and back). Maybe I should look for the week where the longest run is 9 miles and jump in there.
Or, maybe I should see what other schedules are out there.
Runner's World has several training schedules depending on your level of experience for $29.95. They also have plans to break the 4 and 3 hour marks, as well as a plan for prepping for Boston. I think I'll pass on that until I know I can finish a marathon at all.
Running Times warns you right from the the start that its training schedule is tough, and just looking at it gave me leg cramps. Maybe after full recovery. Maybe after I actually finish a marathon!
State of the Art Marathon Trainng has a 19-week mileage buildup schedule leading right into the week of a marathon, strategies for injury prevention, a reasonable 18-week training schedule and other resources, like speed and strength workouts. And it's free! Sounds good, but I'm not sure.
So, I return to Hal. His programs are simple, easy to follow and don't require a lot of concentration. I figure I may as well start in at the Novice 2 level, starting at week one. It'll give me a chance to dial things back, and slowly work my way up to marathon level in 18 weeks -- just in time for the Disney Marathon!
Or I could just continue to run four, five days a week, increasing my mileage by about 10 percent a week, continue stretching and throw in some bike riding and swimming. I haven't made up my mind yet, but stay tuned. I will let you know.
Meanwhile, as I contemplate the universe of training plans available, let's listen to a real groovy, Grammy-winning version of "Also Sprach Zarathustra" by Latin Jazz artist Eumir Deodata:
One of the hardest things about laying off running and pretty much any really strenuous exercise for a year is the weight gain. For me at least, it took forever to adjust my diet to the change in metabolism and the outrageous calorie burn you get running 40-50 miles a week, plus swimming and biking on cross-training days.
Despite the lack of exercise, I kept eating and drinking wine like Bacchus, failing to adjust my caloric intake. And I kept expanding like a balloon.
At the peak of my training two years ago, just before the Space Coast Marathon, I weighed just shy of 195 pounds. After the Tupelo marathon 10 months later, I was hovering around 205. By the time I got my doctor to get me an MRI three months ago, I weighed 229. Fully clothed. Wearing my five-hole Doc Martens.
I was a happy Buddha, smiling and loving life.
But my doctor said lose the weight.
Running with an extra 34 pounds feels like lugging around two bowling balls strapped to your midsection. It is not fun. Your breathing is heavy. You plod along like Wimpy after indulging in a hamburger orgy. It does not feel good. You can only do about 3-4 miles a day, very slowly (10-12 minute pace in my case).
I've discussed weight loss plans with friends, nutritionists and doctors. The best one: eat less. Seriously. And cut back on the booze, never mind the miraculous restorative powers of Resveratrol contained in every bottle of red wine. As one writer once said, You have to stay hungry and stay sober.
And moderate exercise. Forty minutes a day of walking or biking or swimming, light jogging if your doctor OKs it. Basically, I've gotten back to running several times a week after my SI Joint injection and chiropractic treatment. I do regular physical therapy and yoga exercises to stretch out and strengthen my core and leg muscles. And I'm gradually losing weight. I am down to about 212-215 stark naked following a run or bike ride. I know that's cheating because there's a few pounds of water weight that will come back by day's end.
But I've noticed as I lose weight and recondition my core, I am running faster and stronger now that I'm no longer running around with two bowling balls strapped to my gut (down to one!).
Also, my back doesn't hurt -- hardly at all these days. I've stopped taking the Tramadol and the muscle relaxer, just a daily ant-inflammatory. My recovery rate is quicker, and I'm now running on average five to six miles a day, with an eight or nine mile run planned for this weekend.
And now, for your listening enjoyment, "Take The Skinheads Bowling," by Camper Van Beethoven:
At what point do you know it's time to hang up your old running shoes and get a new pair? Do you wait until the tread is worn down to nothing? Do you chuck them when the foamy cushion has lost its snap and is squashed to the thinness of an 80-year-old's lumbar disk? Or do you keep running in them until the odor becomes absolutely unbearable, so foul even your dog won't sniff it anymore?
I've had these Brooks Adrenalines for over a year, bought at the Running Zone in Melbourne. Truthfully, ever since I injured myself during the Tupelo Marathon last Labor Day Weekend, they haven't seen a lot of mileage until lately.
But I have noticed the tread wearing down. And the heels are wearing down evenly. That's good. That means this must be the right model for me. Other brands I've worn -- the popular ASICS 2105 and the Mizuno Wave -- tended to wear unevenly, decomposing more quickly on the outer strike zone of the heel.
And they wore out more quickly than the Brooks. So I guess I'm stuck with the Brooks Adrenaline.
That brings me back to the original question. Is it time to replace them? Or is there still plenty of life in them yet? Can I bear the smell for another week, two weeks or even a month?
While I ponder these questions, I think I'll listen to "Bad Sneakers" by Steely Dan. I never quite figured out what the song means, but I love the line, "I'm going insane, laughing in the pouring rain."
When I got the injection into my SI Joint (left), I thought I would be tossing out my meds, the ones that have been keeping me going the past few months as I dealt with this excruciating lower back/hip/butt pain.
But the post-procedure instructions had a sentence that meant worlds: "Continue your previous medication."
The technician in the doctor's office, whom I shall call X-Ray Annie, said I should keep taking my meds, but only the pain pill and muscle relaxer "as needed."
Sweet.
For the record, here's what I've been taking:
Meloxicam, 15 MG
Tramadol, 50 MG
Metaxalone, 800 MG
Meloxicam and metaxalone sound like two ancient Aztec potions meant to raise the spirit of Quetzacoatl, and should probably chased down with mescal, but the doctor recommends against combining any of these drugs with alcohol.
Meloxicam is a pretty mild, non-steroidal anti-inflammatory which can have some effect on kidney function output if I take it too long. It appears to cause severe kidney damage in cats.
Metaxalone, a muscle relaxer that goes by the trade name Skelaxin (sounds like a Swedish diuretic or weight loss medicine?), is the gold standard. It doesn't make me drowsy, so it's good to take during the day. I can work and function pretty well on this medication, whereas even if I took one Flexoril at night before bed I would be groggy all the next day. Sometimes they make me hyper. Relatively few side effects, and even the people who invented it don't exactly know how it works except that it has some liver interaction.It a
Tramadol is bliss. It's an opiate-based painkiller that does the trick and still leaves me coherent and bright-eyed. Actually, I've noticed my pupils are like pencil points when I've taken one of these. Gotta watch it, could affect the kidneys.
I will keep taking the anti-inflammatory meds, as long as it takes until the inflammation is knocked down. And I promise to take the muscle relaxer and pain meds, only "as needed."
And now for your listening pleasure, "Sex and Drugs and Rock'n'Roll," by Ian Dury and the Blockheads:
The SI Joint injection today was a big succes. The doctor gave me two valium to loosen up, and then shoved a needle full of fun into the crown of my sacrum, and another needle into a bone spur sitting on my ilium. Instant relief!
But drowzy! Man, I slept for three hours after I got home. The doctor recommended 24-48 hours of rest before resuming normal activitie
So while I'm shut down in recovery mode I think I'll answer some fan mail.
Dear Jeffro:
"Have you ever stumbled over a gator or slipped on roadkill?"
Frank Garza, Northport High School, Class of '76
Well, Frank, that is a really good question. As you know, both alligators and roadkill are savory delicacies among the true Floridians, the "cracker." Or as they say down here, "Dem's good eatin!"
As a longtime resident of Florida I've lived from Miami to Tallahassee, from Gainesville to Port St. Lucie. I've pulverized slow-moving pidgeons on the morning commute, and have smeared armadillo meat across the tarmac.
As a runner, I've seen a lot of those guts and gizzards up close and personal. Recently, I saw a small corn snake that was barely beaned in the head, but enough to kill it. Remember the difference between the benign corn and the deadly coral snakes: "Red touch yellow, kill a fellow. Red touch black, venom lack."
I also saw a gathering of turkey vultures or buzzards murdering something totally unrecognizable on more than one occasion.
They're fascinating creatures, actually. Nature's death scene cleanup crew. Only without the van, toxic chemicals and snug-fitting coveralls and gloves. I mean, they sit on the road, picking at dead rotting flesh until the only thing left is a grease stain. That is some serious, ruthless efficiency.
And they remind me of the vultures in the Disney movie, Jungle Book. You know the ones, the ones with Liverpudlian accents drawn to look like the Beatles, complete with mop tops!
Anyway, Frank, I came close to stumbling over a gator just the other morning. I was running along this quiet residential street that winds along Crane Creek, when I hear this crash through the rushes. I turned quickly enough to see a four-foot gator splash into the creek. Coolness.
And now, since my birthday is coming up and we been talking about roadkill, here's a video from the Drive-by Truckers (note the 40 Watt Club backdrop):
This is it, the day I go in for my steroid injection into my SI Joint. Ironically, my lower back and right hip feel better than they have in months. I have almost no burning or pain in the hip and butt, but no matter.
I'm doing it.
My neurologist explained that the inflammation is like a room on fire in a house. The injection will put out that fire before it spreads throughout the house and burns it down completely.
The attached video explains it pretty clearly, but you'll have to put up with a commercial from the Mormons first.
I've tried for a year to get this thing right, and my chiropractor and massage therapist have been very helpful pinpointing the pain and easing it through manipulation and massage. My chiropractor called it months ago -- telling me the pain was coming from my SI joint.
But they've taken me as far as they can on this, and now it's time to knock it out thoroughly and decidedly.
The doctor will first inject me with lydocaine to numb out the area, then inject a steroid stew into the crown of my right sacrum. I should feel the effects almost immediately. Here's hoping.
And so, here's a great video by the legendary Talking Heads:
Running this morning, started at the crack of dawn to avoid the heat. Still spritzing like crazy.
Feeling well enough to tackle the causeway, and just as I'm heading up the eastern incline, two or three dolphins break the surface of the Indian River Lagoon, their black-purple backsides glistening like eggplants in the orange dawn.
Ancient Greek mariners read it as a sign of good fortune when dolphins followed their triremes out of the harbour. I look on their presence as fortuitous as well. Only one song I know of uses the word triremes, by the way, and that's "Deeper Down," by Wilco.
I logged 7.5 miles this morning, got lapped by the high school cross country team and sweated like a whore in church. I guess it's the humidity after all.
Capped the morning run off by chasing down a meloxicam (15 MG) with a mango/strawberry smoothie. Yum!
Tomorrow's the day I'm scheduled to get a steroid injection in my SI joint. Can't wait. Hope to give the meloxixam, tramadol, and skalaxin the big kiss-off.
This morning's running song is "It's So Humid," by 2 Live Jews. Enjoy. And Mazel Tov!
Living on the east coast of Florida poses two serious challenges for long-distances runners: terrain and climate. It's flatter than a surfboard, and the heat index is off the scales.
Training for a marathon in the subtropics is downright crazy.
No escaping the heat. You just have to run before the sun gets up, because as soon as the sun crests the first yardarm, it's already into the high 80s with the humidity ratcheting up the heat index several more degrees. We have two temps: what it says on the bank thermometer, and what it feels like. There ought to be a third category: what it feels like running.
Finding a place to get in some decent hill work isn't easy, but if you live along the Intracoastal Waterway like I do, you go for the next best thing: a causeway.
The one I run is the US 192 Causeway, or the Melbourne Causeway. The official name for the span is the Ernest Kouwen-Hoven Bridge, named after a Dutch man who emigrated to Florida, and liked to build bridges and grow timber. He built the original Melbourne Causeway in 1919, and the Florida Legislature named a subsequent bridge after him in 1977. Nobody locally calls it by its proper name, and very few people who grew up here even heard of Kouwen-Hoven. My friends who grew up here call jokingly call it Mt. Melbourne.
Yesterday I ran to the blue light at the top of old Ernie's bridge, stopped and turned around, making a nice 5.5 mile run on a hot-as-balls Saturday morning. Here's the song, "Blue Light," by the band Bloc Party.
That's a big milestone for me, because it's the first time since injuring myself in the Tupelo Marathon that I was able to exceed 15 miles in one week. Not that I'm setting any land speed records yet.
Also, it marks the second time I tackled the causeway since I began running again three weeks ago, after a year of suffering from a back injury I got running the Tupelo Marathon. I call this route The Blue Light Special because of the blue navigational signal at the crest of the causeway, which I suppose serves a two-fold purpose: it lets boaters know where the channel is at night, and keeps planes from flying into it.
But it doesn't keep people from jumping from the top of the span, 55 feet above the Indian River Lagoon. People have died doing it, and a brass plaque right near the blue light serves as a reminder of what happens to fools who dare to dive off the bridge at their own peril. Don't wind up like "Doug Bob" commemorated here -- born in 1986, died 2002 -- you do the math.
Anyway, I think I hit another milestone that comes with old age -- erm, make that wisdom. When it hurts, stop. Which is why I stopped at the blue light and turned around. I could have kept going across the two-mile causeway, and done an eight-mile run instead of 5.5. But the heat was getting to me, I'd run all out and was pretty spent by the time I hit the top of the causeway.
And my SI joint was pinging something fierce, along with a little pain tickling the piriformis muscle. I knew it was time to quit, that my body had had enough for the week and I should be happy with what I'd accomplished reaching that 17-mile mark in one week, without dying of heat stroke.
Maybe I'll double-down and hit the Blue Light Special twice tomorrow, the day before I go in for my steroid injection.
OK. Now for a cool running song, the one that was pounding in my head while bopping down the causeway: Step On, by Happy Mondays:
I was putting it off until my pace had improved. I didn't want to run the risk of entering a 5K and finishing in over 30 minutes.
