Scared to Run

As you know by now, Saturday is long run day. This morning, after a day of knee weirdness as in I-can't-put-my-full-weight-on-it-at-the-grocery-store-for-some-strange-out-of-the-blue-reason, I was supposed to hit it early. Needed to hit it early, actually, because there was a lot to get done at the ranch today.

And I was scared to run. 

I have two weeks of training and two weekends to go. After last week's 12+ miles, I'm confident I can go the distance. As a result, my brain has switched from can I do it/obsessed about getting enough miles in to fear that my knee is going to fail and I won't be able to complete the goal. 

I've been pushing pretty hard, but I've been resting more than ever before, too. Logically, I think I'm being smart. But when I get those white hot pains, prolonged stiffness, or comes-and-goes weakness, I panic. 

I putzed around the house for an hour, trying to psyche myself up. Wrestling with the decision of how far to go. Ten miles? Six? Or maybe 11. Or eight. 

When Jim started in on a project that really required my help, I knew I had to kick it in gear and get the damn thing started and let the chips fall where they may. 

It was fine. I went a little over eight. No weakness. No stiffness. 

All was right with the world. 

Just wish I'd gone farther. The good news is Jim put me to work upon my return and I toted 'dat barge and lifted 'dat bale ... so the workout continued without having to actually run. 

(You didn't know I can operate a chop saw, table saw and tin snips, did you? I only bled a little.)