Running Commentary

...yes indeed, and I'm talkin' about...medical stuff. The films don't lie: I tore my rotator cuff and fractured my humerus. Why am I not laughing if it's so humerus? Actually, I am smiling. My shoulder improves by the day. Today I went with Z to the gym and ran a bit on the treadmill. I'm keeping my activity moderate, because I want to heal. I still haven't ridden my bike--am mostly just walking. What surprises me is how much pain I still have. When I first awake in the morning my entire right arm, right to my fingertips, aches. Then it eases. But as the day goes on I get tired, and by bedtime I'm miserable. But it's getting better. It's getting better. It's getting better. Since I hurt myself it seems I keep encountering other stories of woe, and all of them worse than mine. It keeps my little pity party from growing any bigger than it needs to be. Reminds me of one of my favorite Zen tales. A woman whose child had died went to the Buddha and be...

Today I put on my running clothes and went out the door, encouraged by my time yesterday at the gym and determined to find a way to work out today, too. I strapped my right arm into the sling, making it as snug as I could, and found I was able to do an inelegant run-shuffle for a few minutes at a time without causing too much pain to my shoulder. What a windy, cloudy day out there! But being out there was fine. I made my way over to the track at King school in about 30 minutes. Once there I made four laps around the track (might even have been five), running most of the way. I finally figured out that my shoulder took the jouncing best when I grabbed a handful of my sweatshirt at midsection height with my right hand. That anchor, combined with the restraint afforded by the sling, minimized the bouncing of my arm. I’ve tried to put thoughts of training for races or reaching mileage goals right out of my head for now and instead am attempting to concentrate on being thankful that I can s...

Yep, I've done it again. Once again I tangled with gravity and--surprise!--gravity won. Wednesday morning as I ran up a driveway to get onto the sidewalk I tripped over a fallen garbage can lid. I threw my arms up and out in front of myself in hopes of getting upright again, but succeeded only in coming down with most of my body weight on the inner part of my right shoulder. This was not a minor trip 'n' slip that I could jog away from. My shoulder and arm let me know that I'd put myself once again on the DL. I went to my doctor's office in the afternoon, where one of her minions (the same one who oversaw my hip injury) shook her head over me and said things like "possible rotator cuff tear," "may need an MRI," and "you stupid idiot." OK, I didn't actually hear her say that last, but if she had I wouldn't have argued with her. I am currently wearing a sling (see illus. 1), trying not to fall over when I enter and exit cars, and ...

Well, he doesn't really (he might think he's a car, but that's a different post). But it's a great song. Early Roseann Cash. The photo is BART, of course, and its chatter as it whooshes by overhead is part of the dawn chorus I enjoy when I'm running from the night into the day. Did 5.25 this morning, and the sky was light when I got back to the house around 5:30 a.m. I find this the most wonderful time of year. Yes, after a long blogging hiatus, I'm here to tell you I'm still running along. My feet still hurt, but laying off from running is more painful than having hot feet. I have an appointment in a couple of weeks with a podiatrist who is the son of a running crony, and am hoping that he will offer some new insight into an active rehabilitation (translation: he'll tell me it's OK to keep running). To catch up: Z and I did the Avenue of the Giants half marathon May 7. It was lovely -- perfect cool day -- and I beat him by more than a minute. Now do...