Step, Drag, Step, Drag, Step, Drag

My morning runs usually start with some stretching in the house and then a twisty, cat-stretch walk down my crunchy gravel driveway and today was no exception.

Out in the road, I sauntered past my neighbor's driveway and began my run. My feet hitting the pavement sounded like this:

Thwaaaap, thwaaaaap, thwaaaaap, thwaaaaap.

After warming up, I picked up the pace:

Thwap, thwap, thwap, thwap, thwap, thwap, thwap, thwap, thwap.

A mile-and-three-quarters in, I caught myself straying off pace, so I kicked it up a notch:

Twapthwapthwapthwapthwapthwapthwapthwapthwapthwapthwapthwapthwap.

Then I turned a corner and headed down a hill and all of a sudden I felt a catch in my right hip. Surely it's just a hitch in my get-along. My brain is saying, "Run through it." So I kept thwaping, wincing with each step.

I stopped to stretch and tried to walk it off. But it kept getting worse. By now I was two miles away from home and my gait sounded like this:

Step, ouch, step, ouch, step, ouch. My brain was saying, "Holy $hit. You're two miles from home and you have to get back there."

I hobbled home. Step, drag, step, drag, step, drag. Wince, ouch, wince, ouch, wince, ouch.

And I spent the day doing the same around work. Afraid of what tomorrow will bring. This had better be a muscle pull that rest, ice and ibuprofen will take care of.