The weather is insanely good today. So, rather than coop myself up at the gym OR go to the doctor, I decided to go to the park instead. I walked from my front door to the end of the Duke Island Park path and back again in about 1:30. Since I do not have a good pedometer, I’m not sure how far that is, but it’s at LEAST five full miles, maybe closer to seven or even eight because I was hauling ass pretty much the whole time.
Wow, do I hurt. I did it to take inventory of the body, mostly, and the feet are sad, the left knee is fucked, my left hip is going OW FUCK WHY DID YOU DO THAT (probably due to overcompensating for the knee thing) and my left arm (shut up, left side of my body) is all chafed from the armpit seam of my shirt. The upside is that I can walk on the knee just fine (hills might be slightly problematic, but more testing will be needed on that), and if I can keep up a 4.0 walking pace that’s less than 7 hours for the marathon. Of course, that means I am going to have to swim and bike REALLY fast, but I’m hopeful that I can get the knee issues sorted and get back to running properly.
Poor left side. Everything is angry over there. Right side of the body is feeling just fine except for a giant blister on the ball of that foot. That made itself known around the very last mile and I can almost hear it growing as I write this. I think that’s the socks, actually. Instead of my cheap-ass shitty Hanes cotton socks, I put on my fancy Asics tech-fabric socks and FUCK THAT. Cotton socks just work better for me, despite all the research and field-testing that says “no, they always cause blisters.” No, they don’t always. I love you, cotton socks!
Speaking of things I love, let me talk right now about my underwear. I know some people get all precious about their underpants and get all “oh, I would never wear the boring cotton underwear you buy in a 6-pack at Target” and to those people I say “FUCK YOU AND YOUR FANCY UNDERPANTS” because I am wearing the Hanes Her Way [barf] no-ride-up cotton boyshorts and HOLY FUCKING SHITBALLS, when they say “no wedgie guarantee” THEY MEAN IT. Those bitches STAYED PUT. Historically, I have had problems with my underpants constantly trying to crawl up my junk and so when I saw something that said “no wedgies” well, DUH. So, hooray boring cotton underpants!
Other than the knee thing, I am feeling pretty good overall. Can’t complain about having a sunburned nose in NOVEMBER.