Short post tonight lads n’ lassies.
Psoas muscle is going haywire. Last two days have been beeeee-rutal. On Sunday, I was dropped off 4-miles from home for what was going to be the start of my long run and five minutes into it I had to turn around and hobble/walk for a while before I was finally warmed up enough to canter my sucker-self home. Pathetic. Feeling valiant, I tried yesterday and the same thing happened. My psoas was wound as tightly as a violin string and played the familiar notes of “Kay It’s Not Your Appendix Bursting; It’s Just Me”.
Yes, this psoas thing is “at that point” where I start seriously wondering the extremes, “will I ever run normal again????I” and I replay the warning signs. I should’ve seen this coming a few weeks ago at the Cape 13 Relay on my last leg when I felt the familiar gut wrench the first few miles and slowed it down until it went away, not giving it a second thought once I’d finished. Well, I’m on my 200th thought about it now and here’s what I know: I really should’ve stretched more. I should’ve known that day that it wasn’t the last I’d hear from the little salmon filet attached to my L5.
So today I just laid at the beach. Best day off ever. Now it’s 11:43 pm and I’m itching to run in the morning and praying I can run without halting half steps. Only two days of serious complaining and I miss the untetheredness of lacing up the boots and moving in sweatbreaths and chestheaves toward the horizon line and the black curve of road, with nothing but the sweet motor of muscles working harmoniously to keep me company.
We’ll see what the dawn brings.
Keep it real and stretch your filets.
psoas major (top) is where i get hit with a baseball bat then stuck with a swiss army blade then shredded with a cheese grater every time i pull my right leg forward. it feels great.