Counting Your Chickens

It seems inevitable that I will never catch up with these entries. Please bear with me as I continue my incredibly thorough documentation of the recent past.

---September 27th long run to Mt. Bonnell---

It’d been a couple months since my last Mt. Bonnell attempt. On the first one, I careened in one split second from gliding along 35th and chatting about Krispy Kreme donuts with Dan Hopper and Karen, to securing handholds on Mt. Bonnell Rd and pulling myself to the summit. Recalling the sight of me on his way down, Scott Miritt said he wanted to say hi, but it looked like I had other things to worry about. Indeed.

Yet today I'm riding high on three recent victories: My first pace run at 7:11, an easy-ish 20 miler nine seconds off MGP, and most recently a round of 800’s averaging 3:03. I am on track, NAY AHEAD of schedule. I’ve more or less put this cranky nerve pain to rest, and me out of my misery. I’m going into this run strong, confident and ready to throw some padding on my New York goal time.

I pull up to RunTex two minutes late. I have to, it’s part of the ritual and I don’t want to mess with it: Coffee, banana, oj, read the morning papers online, look at my watch, panic, scour the house frantically for the sports gels I bought that one time, forget to lube up, arrive late. All timed to perfection. I bolt out of the car while tying my key to my shoe and weave through the maze of runners crowding both directions of Townlake. Where in Austin are there more people awake and ambulatory at 5:45 on a Saturday morning? Dude, it’s all happening at LBL! I pass some familiar faces and by Lake Austin Blvd I’m in a rough and loose crowd with Ivi and Pat. Ivi talks about running 20 or 30 or something ridiculous while I stick to my guns and my 13.3. It’s all looking good as I take in the views cruising down Scenic.

This time I know what to expect on Mt. Bonnell— ungodly incline, little break, another ungodly incline. Accelerade at the end. Possible vomiting. I chug away up the first pitch, slowing but strong, lifting my legs, planting and toeing off like I mean it. The group spreads out, but I’m holding my own. We level off and my body thanks me for the break. I’m actually thinking twenty yards ahead this time and I prepare as the second wall approacheth. A few seconds later, I lean in and start lifting.

Ouch. Whoa, that hurt. What was that? My left calf doesn’t approve. I power on, churning upward, banishing the pain from my consciousness. Out, out, damn pain.

I top out and slog to the water stop with much more composure than before, reaching for a paper cone cup with authority. That’s right, I’m throwing down today. But, lo, who do I see floating, or better yet, skipping up the road to meet us? It would be the tall, lanky ones, they of the extremely long stride, Dan and Karen.

I follow their steps to the true summit and take in Lake Austin in all its development-choked majesty. Aah. Memories of my undergrad days. Except in college we’d be here with book bags full of Shiner and a cassette tape player, jamming to Jane’s Addiction. Oh my god we were so cool. Perry Farrell was speaking to us!

Dan suggests the long way down and we all follow, rockhopping back to the road. He shoots ahead on the asphalt and I try reeling him in. I find I’ve got the lungs for it and I catch him. A RARE MOMENT. But something’s wonky. In fact something’s been wonky for the last twenty minutes.

My calf pain’s not going away.

Karen and a few others catch up while Dan calls out a 6:50 mile. I am keeping up, but this pain is significant. It’s sharp and gets more defined with every footstrike. Like someone's grabbing my calf with both hands and wringing it out. I am favoring that leg considerably now. I stay with the group for another mile.

It continues to get worse. To soften the blow I try running on my toes. A BAD idea. At mile 10 I decide that it’s not worth it to push this and I let them go, slowing to about a 9:00 min/mi. After a few minutes with no improvement, I stop altogether.

I walk the remaining three miles back to RunTex. It takes about 50 minutes. I’ve missed stretching, so I head straight to the Annex. I down some Accelerade and pull a Clif Bar from one of the boxes inside.

I don’t even want to think about what this means right now.

I get in my car, go grab some tacos at Torchy's on South 1st, and drive home.