After the emotional and physical day a lot of my friends and myself endured on Friday, waking I thought what Saturday was going to bring.
I had decided early Saturday morning, as I lie awake in bed listening to the set of cardinals in the backyard talking back in forth to each other in bird language that the day was going to constructive. To be exact, construction was on the docket. Building a custom shoe bench box in the mudroom to house the many pairs of shoes that escape their area and litter the house on a daily basis. Building a heavy-duty fortress to secure the shoes from going AWOL at will.
I had purchased lumber of 2 X 4’s for the foundation the week before and had the dimensions and look of the fortress in my head to start to work. This fortress not only had to be escape proof from the inside, but also had to be impenetrable from the outside.
Before tackling the project that was going to take most of the weekend, breakfast was needed to fuel the body. Pumpkin pancakes, two eggs, yogurt, banana and coffee was just what the body needed.
By 3PM and 7 hours later, I had next to finished the skeleton of the fortress. I had decided to go outside to fill up the bird feeder for the cardinals and sparrows and this is when it hit me. It was nice outside! I had been cooped up in the mudroom and garage all morning and afternoon and had missed the splendid weather that was upon us in Georgia.
During my incarceration, many of my friends were out in the warm weather, running, playing lacrosse, swimming, biking, having bike crashes (sorry to hear about that), having their bikes stolen, but then recovered as I worked obliviously in the dark dungeon.
The fresh, warm winter day felt good but I knew that having Saturday’s as a rest day, chores and projects don’t get done by themselves if I am not there to complete.
As the afternoon came to an end, the evening was about to get started. The family was meeting some new friends for pizza and beer at local joint. The conversation was lively, the company was awesome and the food was spectacular. We all had a good time as the place started to close up for the evening around us.
Sunday brought service, more construction, homework and dinner. Grace, our daughter was an acolyte at the 8:30AM service, which means it is my responsibility to assemble the troops early in the morning in order for us to be at the church in time. As coffee brewed, I went around to each room to roust the girls and Sarah from a long slumber.
After service, Sarah was meeting our neighbor, Pam (who is running Boston this year) for a run. Pam was running 19 miles while Sarah was going to meet Pam after 8 miles and finish up with her. The weather again was exceptionally warm from the last 60 days and the run was good for all.
For the rest of the clan it was homework, violin practice and additional work on the mudroom shoe jail. It was on the calendar for me to run a 6 miles tempo run on Sunday afternoon, but I felt like I needed to warden the household to insure the work by the inmates was completed.
After putting the final touches on the framing of the shoe cell, I headed off to Lowes to pick up the interior and exterior cosmetic pieces to tie the look in with the surroundings.
I headed off to the local big box hardware establishment to pick up supplies. The interior of the shoe jail was to be designed to handle the constant kicking off and throwing of shoes. I wanted to use a man made compressed wood and plastic material to line the interior. After finding 4 X 8 sheets of the compound, I proceeded to pull on sheet off the shelve that was approximately 3 ½ feet from the ground. As I leveraged my body against the man made panel I could feel that this 4 X 8 piece of synthetic compound weighed 70+ pounds per sheet.
The lowering of the panel showed to be difficult especially when the sheet slipped with 2 feet to go and landed on the right interphalangeal joint on the outer side with a heavy thump. With the sheet weighing ~ 70lbs and being dropped from a distance of 2 feet I figured that at 2.5974 pounds per square inch the pressure that was applied to the right outside interphalangeal joint was 371.4 psi. The force was enough to break the epidermis and cause severe pain that radiated up the metatarsal and into the talus. The cuticle instantly turned a black shaded color as sanguine fluid seeped through my sock. My breathing became shallow and I was forced to seek a place to sit for at least 20 minutes while the pain subsided.
After I was able to compose myself, I finished the task of gathering the necessary lumber to complete the shoebox minus out the composite that poised bodily harm.
Arriving home, I unloaded the lumber supplies and then proceeded to gather and ice compress to help contain the swelling that appeared.
The rest of the evening, I limped in excruciating pain around the house, making dinner, grilling steaks and not complaining of my misfortunate event. One elixir that helped ease the pain was of course, beer. After downing a few of this magical miracle drug, the pain was numbed.
I headed off to bed, early to watch the Canada vs. USA hockey game. Which ended in a victory for USA.
Monday morning came fast. Every bump in the night sent a shock wave of pain up through my body making a good night sleep impossible.
The alarm chimed at 4:30AM with the notion that I would spin for 45 minutes and then hit the tempo run that I missed yesterday. As I dressed for the morning in the closet I witnessed the size of the interphalangeal joint. The size was double that of the normal joint on the left. The cuticle was a dark midnight blue color with lacerations parallel across the top. I hobbled down the hall and at the landing, I needed to make a choice. Head off in pain or back to bed.
At 7AM, I woke to get ready for work.
With the decision I had set myself back again in my training regiment. Missing another key run could have extreme consequences on the pace I want to maintain during the marathon. I had packed workout clothes for this afternoon to either lift weights or attempt to run. By 10AM, I had made a decision on the lunchtime activities. Do the tempo run. In my mind, I needed to know if the interphalangeal joint was fractured ending the training or if it was just severely messed up with swelling and lacerations.
11:15AM I arrived at the gym to attempt the run. I saw Bob in the locker room getting ready for his tempo run as he waited for Jay’s appearance. I asked if I could join the Twins in their 8 mile tempo run, knowing what the answer was to be.
The Twins and I went upstairs and procured 3 mills halfway into the bowels of the treadmill rows. Warm ups were first on the menu. The first few strides I took sent a fierce pain shooting up my right side and nestling behind the sclera. The first thought was to stop but I decided to see if I could “work it out” during the first 2 miles of a 7.4 MPH pace. 10 minutes in the shooting pain started to subside and I was in not as much discomfort. By the end of the second mile the pace was prescribed to increase to 9.2 MPH. I had already dialed up and was hitting the 9.2 stride at the end of the first 2 miles. I only had 3 miles at this speed and then I was to reduce the speed back to 7.4 for a warm down.
The first 2 miles at 9.2 were okay. I was numb to the pain and started to feel sweat forming in my shoes from the lack of air in the gym. As I rounded into mile-3, holding the pace became difficult. I started grunting and taking in more water. Unlike a friend of mine who grunts on the treadmill and gets ask out on dates, the noises that came from my mouth (no swearing) did not solicit any acts of courting by the opposite sex even when that is not the intent. I received looks of pity and dismay as the 3 of us continued our run into oblivion.
Coming up on the last ½ mile of the short tempo pace of 9.2 MPH, I wanted to quit. Stop dead in my tracks and call it a day, but I knew with the Twins eyeing the speed on my mill that they would never let me live it down. I trudged ahead pretending to chase down the runner on the treadmill in front of me until the magic number 5 came up. I slowed the mill down to the cool down pace of 7.4MPH’s, sipped water and wondered why my right sock was damp while the left one was not?
Again, I need to thank the Wonder Twins for their mental push to allow me to complete the run. If not they would never let me let it down which I would expect from them.
After stretching and in the locker room the reason for the wetness showed as I peeled off the right sock. The right planter had a stain of crimson coloring surrounding the front. I could not see a large gash that would cause such a stain, but obliviously I had disrupted the healing process. I showered, cleaned up and got ready to head back to work.
I have had many obstacles in this training session so far. I could take the easy road and call it quits or even feel sorry for myself, but I don’t. Life throws these things at you, so you can attempt to hit them as they come or take the strikes and get out. The count is 3 & 2 and do not expect to strike out.
As for the shoe fortress it will be tackled again next weekend.
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