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DODAR (Read 31 times)


Uh oh... now what?

    DODAR, nounish, "Delayed Onset to Dumb-Assed Running"

     

    With the onset of the sixth week of turning back to the car, bike, or house
    because of the pain as I tried to run, the idea of having a doctor look at
    my leg crossed my mind. The visit went okay, more or less--more because he
    said there was nothing major wrong with my Achilles tendon--less because he
    told me I shouldn't do "that" again. The "that" had brought a smile to his
    face. I think there was a bit of empathy too, maybe a smidgen of sympathy.
    He had been listening, nodding in support, then smiled and almost chuckled
    when I described what I done to create the "that."

     

    It was in late July, a wonderfully warm and almost windless day. We did
    not want to wander here and there on our well-shaded trails. We wanted out
    in the sun. We decided to go to Padilla Bay. There is a 2-1/8th of a mile
    gravel-surfaced walking path alongside the huge tidal basin. An almost
    flat ribbon with no roots or rocks to trip over, plenty of room for passing
    or meeting other people, and, something to be damned and double-damned
    later on, markers every 1/18th of a mile.

     

    We don't get many days with temperatures above 62ºF on the island. I
    parked and we got out. The warm air (about 70ºF) plus the clear and
    windless sky brought forth the illusive memory of muscles being warm and
    flexible. I said I was going to alternate running and walking the eighths
    of a miles to the other end. Forgetting, or neglecting, the idea that I
    tend to always go out in a blaze of glory (followed by an early and
    dramatic death) I started... wait! What's this? I have my genuine
    runner's watch on; some rarely worn for trail outings. I was only a few
    yards down the path. I stopped and returned to the "0" sign. I switched
    the watch to stopwatch mode, clicked "Start" and blazed off in search of
    the next eighth of a mile post. I arrived there just a few seconds before
    switching from aerobic to anaerobic, the last remaining conscious thought
    was to hit the "Split" button... and observe as the first recovery leg
    started.

     

    What's this? 59? Hmmm, add one and 59 becomes 60--a minute. I just did
    220 yards (sounds a lot longer than an eighth of a mile) at 8-minute pace.
    Wow? It is only about once a month that I do the one-mile long Partridge
    Point Road with a watch on--just as a check to see what it is that I call
    running these days. I am tickled pink to still see 9:00 - 9:15 without
    turning red or appearing in need of the EMT folks. Hmmm, an 8-minute pace
    and the first recovery leg is done and--hit the button and off I go.

    61? Really? So, there is some spring left in the two limbs I have
    mistreated the most. There are two Great Blue herons near the path. They
    move through the water with no ripples, watching for their next meal,
    graceful and silent--neither pays me any notice. The next post is near and
    I click the button again. I am in totally awe of my ability to sit in a
    two-second window of variation by the end of the 2 1/8th miles. The splits
    were 59, 61, 60, 61, 59, 59, 60, 60, 59. An ego being easily inflated I
    was immediately and overwhelmingly impressed. Said ego also allowing me to
    ignore the slight twinge coming from the lower half of my left leg.

     

    I watched another Great Blue Heron and a few other water birds, a
    Kingfisher chittering as it dove, and waited for Kathy to arrive. I told
    her my splits and said I was going to quarter miles on the way back. It was
    just too nice a day to waste on easy running. She mentioned something
    about that being way too fast for me--not having done anything remotely
    resembling speed work in a long time. I (recall the "ignoring.." just
    mentioned) said I was okay, hit the "Start" button and took flight.

     

    The first quarter mile was great: 2:01 -- recovery jog seemed a bit short
    when the next post suddenly appeared, but I hit "Split" and took off: 2:00
    -- with a slightly enlarged and cottony tongue I recovered again -- 1:58
    and I am suddenly thinking maybe I should not do the next one. There is a
    twinge down there in the lower part of the left leg...ahh, just one more
    and the set of four is done and off I go. The ice pick was inserted just
    as I passed the post. It was not left in. It barely caused me to break
    stride. I slowed slowly and looked at my watch: 2:00 -- the thought of
    still being master of the steady pace on a flat course was interrupted by
    the ice pick being jabbed in my left calf again.

     

    I did the jog/shuffle thing back to Kathy. She asked how it went. I
    immediately said: 2:01, 2:00, 1:58, 2:00 and started to say, but she
    pointed at my legs and said how are they--you are limping. I said I think
    I just did something dumb. Should have stopped with the outbound series?
    Yes. How bad? Strained a little, not bad. We walked/jogged/shuffled back
    to the car. When we got home it was, uh... difficult to get out of the
    car? The ice pick was now embedded in the leg and abandoned. A small
    voice said, "That was some really dumb-assed running you just did.

    The long bulge of swelling on the lower Achilles tendon was tender the next
    day. Almost forgotten methods of taping were recalled so I could walk
    without pain, almost. I did some stretching, icing, heating, lit a few
    incense candles, even mentioned it in the Rosary... all for naught. I
    explained all this to the orthoped of the month selection. He was kind
    enough to not laugh, but only chuckle when I replied to his question, "What
    do you think is wrong?"

     

    "Delayed Onset to Dumb-Assed Running," was my reply, "DODAR."

    XtremeTaper


      Nice entertaining post. THank you, but sorry for the DODAR, achilles stuff.

       

      I've done the DODAR myself a time or two before on the local track. When I go there, I must do something fast. It's the point of the track, to watch the seconds tick by slowly and amuse your mind with how 2-3 seconds pace for half a lap can feel so different. Also running fast, nothing hurts until you stop. Not sure whether I should resume that speedwork stuff again after reading this but I probably will.

       

      .

      In dog beers, I've only had one.

      MadisonMandy


      Refurbished Hip

        This made me chuckle, John.  We're all just stubborn mules, aren't we?  I hope your AT heals quickly.

        Running is dumb.

        Chnaiur


          Funny, and I'm glad the Achilles is OK. Here is a relevant Swedish-language lesson:

           

          död = dead

          döda = to kill

          dödar = is killing

          3/8 Way Too Cool 50k WNS

          4/19 Tehama Wildflowers 50k

           

          Watoni


            Heal quickly!

            jamezilla


            flashlight and sidewalk

              Oh boy...looks like a RGOT sequel in the makes Big grin.  At least the writing isn't suffering.  Hope it's a quick recovery for you.

               

              **Ask me about streaking**

               

              TrailProf


              Le professeur de trail

                Roll eyes

                 

                Funny, and I'm glad the Achilles is OK. Here is a relevant Swedish-language lesson:

                 

                död = dead

                döda = to kill

                dödar = is killing

                My favorite day of the week is RUNday