It was a nice little run (pun intended). Sooner or later, it had to end. And end it did on July 17.
Five awesome weeks were strung together: 41 miles, 47, 55, 51, 50. Then, I went to California. Now, I don't want to blame California solely for this, but as a Coloradan, I blame California for most things.
I arrived on Monday. The plan was to get in a good run that afternoon and a great one on Tuesday. I wasn't in the mood to run, I didn't really want to drive to any particular destination to seek out my fab-Monday run. And did I mention I wasn't really in the mood?
So, I ran from John's house. John is my Brother-in-law, and an all-around good guy except for one thing. He chose to live on the top of this hill in Benicia, CA. Not just any hill, by the way, a 1.6 mile hill that has three kick-ass steep sections. Nonetheless, off I went.
The downhill was annoying. The steepest parts actually hurt (definition of hurt being any amount of pain higher than I expected). Once at the bottom, I cross the road to enter Benicia State Park. I love this park. It winds around an inlet, has some hills on the backside, and is lined with eucalyptus trees near the entrance. Mmmmmmm, nice smells. Then, because there was no escape (although a ride was available if I'd make the call), it was time for the climb to John's..
If the story is truthfully told, it wasn't that bad. Were there times when I wanted to summon the chariot? Yes. Were there times when walking seemed like the best plan? Yes! AND were there times when I was absolutely, positively, sure that John had moved his house further up the hill? YES!!!!!
On one of the steeper sections, my wife Linda drove by and said, "Do you want a ride?"
"No, don't need one," I said.
"Are you sure? Will you make it?"
"Thanks, but I've GOT to do this." So, I did.
Having lived to tell about it, I was off to Mill Valley the next morning. I grabbed some water for my hydration pack and drove through to Muir Beach. Just a bit up the road was the gigantic, and free, parking lot. I greased up, locked up, and I was off up the Coastal Trail. This was my third time on the Coastal trail, yet this time there was more to be added to the fun. This time, when the Coastal Trail intersected with the Muir Woods trail, I would take that loop.
Frankly, the Muir Woods are beautifully divine. After about half the loop, I saw the "Trail Construction Ahead" sign and decided to turn it back around and make it an out and back. No problem, especially since "you can only go into the woods halfway, then you're coming out," anyway. All was good until I began the descent on the Coastal Trail.
First of all, parts were steep. Worse, however, was that mountain bikers had ridden on the trail after a thunderstorm and had created a BIG rut in the middle of the trail in many spots. These were a nightmare for an old guy with a vulnerable knee. Came close to falling several times as I dodged the ruts at a speed that bordered on out of control. Happily, I made it to the end.
I flew home that night (knee very stiff), ran a lame 5 miles the next morning (knee was very sore), and then took the next 10 days off as even walking was a challenge. The knee was swollen, very sore, and my nice little run had ended. As I expected, it made my sad, disappointed, and extremely cranky.
Today, is Tuesday. Sunday I mostly walked 4 miles. Yesterday, it was 4 miles of 50/50. Today, i ran (jogged) 95+% of a 5 miler. It seems to be coming back. That would be nice.
Unfortunately, this yo-yo knee thing doesn't really fix the problem and the problem is I have a pretty damaged knee.
So, for now, I take the Scarlet O'Hara approach: "I'll worry about that tomorrow."
Run on.
