SUNDAY, OCTOBER 31, 2010

This morning was cool - in the mid 30s, first run of the fall wearing tights and a vest. The Sunday group post Chicago Marathon no longer has formal pace groups. We start as a big pack and then find buddies at our pace. After the first 200 yards things already started to sort themselves out. I pulled ahead of a bunch of folks I normally run with in the 9 minute pace group, feeling good. But one guy who normally runs in the group settled in with me and we flew. I knew it was too fast, especially for mile 1, but this was taper time, with no more long runs before next weekend's Indianapolis Monumental Marathon. I had no incentive to plod along. Run by feel and love every step. I did, but I was running right at my current edge. We passed the mile marker on our rails to trails limestone screenings path - 8:03. Geez, that's the fastest road mile I've run in awhile.

Through the next half mile it was the same, stride for stride, closing on folks ahead of us and gapping those behind. My cold hands started to warm, I was sweating and I knew this was a pace I could not keep up for the distance. But I hung in, my strained left calf tight but otherwise offering no issue. Then we came up to the only decent hill on this course, the bridge over I-355. My partner surged and I told him to go. He did, his younger legs soon carrying him to what became a constant 50 yard gap after the bridge. But I hung on pretty well and went through the second mile mark in 8:20.

I maintained what seemed like the same post-bridge pace through 2.4 miles, where we paused at a busier road for our Gatorade stop. I polled the group that came up from behind us on who was running what distance, and then fell in with four other runners who also were fellow 9 minute mile marathon long run pace group friends. We chatted, which was easier at our somewhat slower pace, and the miles clicked away. Mile 3 was 8:30. Mile 4 was 8:45. This was the turn point on the out and back for the three of us running 8 miles. The two others went on and we turned back. We were well matched, but I might have been the one pushing the pace a little. It felt good. Mile 5 was 8:30. We again stopped for Gatorade. Then mile 6 was 8:30, as well. This was an excellent run!

We worked back to the smaller bridge before the Interstate bridge and I was saying how happy I was that my calf strain was not inhibiting my speed, which was not the case last year when I was dealing with my strained Achilles. We crested the smaller bridge and started down, with the Interstate bridge right in front of us. POP! Ouch! "You guys go ahead. My calf hurts. I'm going to walk." Well, actually, I hobbled up and over the Interstate bridge, trying to understand what had happened and the severity of it. Of course I pondered the potential effect on my marathon set for six days later. Then the pain subsided a little and I tried to run. "No, that's sore..." I walked. I tried to run. "Uh, that's still sore but not as sore." I walked a little more. I tried to run. "Hey, I can do this. It's sore but manageable." I did run, with increasing confidence. Mile 7 was 9:30. Mile 8 was 9:58.

What I think happened was an adhesion on a pulled muscle broke loose in my calf. For the balance of the day I have had things to do and places to go, so I have ignored the obvious soreness and tried to walk like nothing is amiss. I ushered at church, dug a trench, went to the big box store twice for materials, pushed a wheelbarrow and otherwise did homeowner stuff.

Now I need to ice and take it easy. I'll do it for the rest of the week and see what Saturday brings. I'll be at the start no matter what - the weekend is as much social with friends and relatives as it is a race. At least the race has a half marathon and a 5K as options.