I decided to go for a short run this morning — the first I've tried since I hurt my right calf a bit a week ago — so I plotted out a 2.89-mile run (that's just what it came to; weird-distanced runs don't bother me, so-called "Deb") figuring I'd test the bad gam out and see how she held up. (Yes, "she", because my legs are girls because HUBBA-HUBBA!1! Look at 'em! I could easily pass for a tranny!) I just wanted to see if I could keep an easy 9:30 pace for a short distance, but I would have been happy with something closer to a 10-minute pace.
Upshot: The calf felt okay from the get-go so less than a half-mile into the run I decided to deviate from the planned route and see if I could go a little farther. I got a late start today, which meant it was light out when I started the run (a rarity for me on a week day), so I could see well enough to go off-road to some nearby trails for a while, which I was happy about because Saturday's 15k is a trail race.
There were a couple times when I said to myself, Well, I've proved my point; I can head home now but I had a rough estimate in my mind, based on my time, of how far I'd run and I just wanted to see if I could get near half the distance of the 15k race on the bad leg without re-injuring it. So the planned 2.89 run ended up being 4.25 miles, falling roughly .4 miles short of half the 15k distance I was shooting for. Close enough for hack-runner work.
But I managed a 9:05 pace (my time was 38:30) — a far swifter pace than I thought I was doing or even capable of doing, considering — and the calf held up okay. So I'm calling this one a win unlike the FUCKING PHILLIES who went into the 9th with a 3-0 lead having finally — finally — gotten a GREAT start out of Kendrick and then they take him out after the 8th and then they give up THREE FUCKING RUNS in the ninth — all on homers — and then FUCKING LOSE IT IN THE 10th ... Yeah, on yet another homer!
Fuckers! I stayed up an hour-and-a-half past my bedtime to watch THIS shit? I put up with the chatter of the Braves' play-by-play guys ("Oooo, that double by Utley was on a check swing, wasn't it Jethro? I don't think that should COUNT!" "You're absolutely right, Jereboam. The rules clearly state that THERE ARE NO RULES as far as homer broadcasters are concerned!") on whatever fucking channel it was that I was able to catch the game just to see the Phillies BLOW it?
I let Ian stay up late to watch till about the 6th. The Phils did great while he was there. From now on, he stays up till midnight when I can get them on TV because he's evidently their good luck charm.
Yeah, I know. This post wasn't exactly GENTEEL, but I'll go back to being Aprilly Genteel when the fucking Phillies stop blowing three-run leads in THE FUCKING 9TH INNING!