The tendons on both sides of my left ankle are fine. I ran 4 miles Monday without pain, and have had no issues in my runs since. Tomorrow is the big test, a 22-miler out into one of the canyons, as much of it on the dirt and gravel shoulder as I can manage.
Today's 10-miler still taxed my IT bands, however, and I'm thinking that might be my biggest stumbling block to achieving my goals. There's no way I can run 7:27 per mile for 26.2 miles if my thighs feel like they've been dipped in concrete after 14, 16, 18 miles at that pace. Nor will I be able to run a 3:30 marathon off the bike in the same situation. Is this just something I'll get used to, that feeling that my thighs will explode and I'll look like Hank Hill's dad for the rest of my life if I take one more stride?
• So there is a negative to all this. I spent $18 more this month on groceries than I did last month. On the one hand, I do enjoy eating whatever I want knowing full well the "calories burned" column on my heart monitor will read deep into triple digits, and possibly quadruple digits. On the other hand, I'd rather not eat myself out of my apartment, or out of my car. I do have taxes to pay and other financial commitments to meet, so I'd rather Safeway not end up as my biggest beneficiary.
Hey, I enjoy shoveling food into my face as much as any American. At the same time nothing in this world keeps me awake nights like my finances, and the rumbling in my stomach might as well be the sound of a cash register like at the beginning of Pink Floyd's "Money." Feed the beast!
• This is my favorite time of year sports-wise, though it sucks to not have any way of pulling in a TV signal. Nor can I sit at the computer and watch my bracket crumble in real time. It's probably a good thing, then, that I will finish a 52-mile week this weekend, rather than having planted my skinny posterior on the futon watching the tall student-athletes make their universities and inveterate gamblers untold sums of money that they'll never see.
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