citizen of the planet

Yes, indeed, it’s too early to panic.  The bruises and the strain that I picked up yesterday are still with me today.  My knees have some large dark areas that look like they’re about to turn purple by tomorrow.  I haven’t yet taken any time to apply ice over the areas, but I will.  It’s not that I can’t run with them, but they’re just far too distracting.  I don’t want to end up racing while being constantly reminded of my tender areas.

As for my right calf, I knew that I had a tube of some Motrin Active Pain Relief in my bathroom cabinet.  The cream was a full-sized sample that came in the race kit for last year’s Angus Glen Half Marathon.  Seriously, that’s one cool thing about Angus Glen (besides their awesome lunch offerings): their kits usually have full-sized samples of useful stuff.  Well, I popped it open and rubbed it into my right calf.  The thing smelled like a cross between toothpaste and a medicine cabinet.  It certainly worked rather well.  My calf isn’t feeling quite so bad, but I still feel the issue there.  Word of warning: if you ever use a muscle cream, make sure to wash your hands afterwards.  I didn’t after applying, and minutes later my was feeling both warm and numb.

On top of all of this, I picked up a strained left shoulder this morning.  I was talking to a colleague about my exploits last night, and during a moment of enthusiastic re-enactment I pulled something.  Honestly, I can’t help but feel like my whole body is sort of rebelling against me.  Sure, that’s kind of an exaggeration, but all of this pain is just poorly timed.  I still have tomorrow to rest and heal myself.  I have to trek over to Burlington to pick up my kit.  After that I have to get to my improv class.  I need to make sure I don’t over do it like I did last night.  No more mistakes.  This is it: I have to take things seriously!

All this time I’ve been saying that I need to be careful with my legs such that I’ll be rested and uninjured for my big race.  And yet, here I am lying in bed with a sore left knee and a strained right calf.  What the heck happened?  Well, really it’s been a rather full night.  Again, I wasn’t really intending on it being a full night, but hey, what are you going to do, right?

After work, I went over to an Irish pub close to Yonge and Bloor to meet an old colleague.  I hadn’t seen him in months.  It was good to get a chance to bitch about the state of work and how everything is becoming a strange stage play of intrigue, possibilities, in-fighting and backstabbing.  Oh yes, indeed.  I started out with a pint of Strongbow, which was nice and mellow.  I didn’t intend on drinking all that much, but after we finished our first drinks I ordered a pint of Sapporo.  My colleague did the same.  After a while, my colleague peered over and saw a guy at the bar drinking from this big-ass mug.  We were both so taken by the size that we asked the server what the deal was with the mug.  She corrected us and informed us that it was a stein.  She said that we could order one of three beers with it.  I think my colleague was reluctant, but I decided to dive right in and egged him on to do the same.  Well, when the steins arrived we were in sheer shock over how big the damn things were.  Sure, they didn’t look so big when the other guy had it, but to us they were enormous.  To our Asian sensibilities it was perhaps a bit more than we could handle, but we were determined.  Those steins were our Everest.  We did eventually conquer them, but only after some hesitation.  By the end of the steins we decided to just end it.  After paying our bills we parted ways.  I decided to walk eastward to at least burn off some of what I had just ingested.

So what happened after drinking?  Why am I slightly sore and injured?  Find out more after the jump!

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This morning I stuck around my place for a while before leaving for work because I was expecting someone to come by.  A nurse was coming by to perform a checkup for some insurance purposes.  I wasn’t sure what to expect.  In my mind I was imagining some motherly small woman with a no-nonsense attitude.  When I answered the door I was greeted by a rather large woman with crooked teeth.  Go figure.  Anyway, after the long questionnaire she took my pulse and my blood pressure readings.  I think I was able to impress her with my relatively low heart rate.  After all of my hard work running, I can get my resting heart rate when I wake up to go as low as mid 40s.  For the nurse’s test she got a reading of 52 beats per minute.  That’s pretty damn healthy.  My blood pressure was rather good too.  I was half expecting it to be a little bit high, but I was pleasantly surprised.

Now, this is all well and good.  There was one test though that kind of blew my mind.  She basically needed to take my height.  After checking, she told me the reading she got.  I was shocked.  I’m used to thinking that my height is X, but she measured something that was two inches shorter.  I asked her if she was serious.  She said she was.  I told her what I thought my height should be.  She laughed and said that whenever she measures people at my expected height she really has to talk up to them whereas with me she didn’t really have to look up that high.  I didn’t want to press it any further, but secretly I thought that she was just crazy.

Well, after checking my other measurements, my weight, and asking for a urine sample she was on her way.  As soon as she left I looked for a stubby pencil, stood against a wall and marked my height.  I then got a tape measure and took a look.  Wouldn’t you know it, I really was wrong all along: I really am two inches shorter than what I had originally believed. I suppose it wouldn’t be such a big deal, however, there’s kind of an unspoken stigma when it comes to shorter guys, is there not?  Back when I (believed I) was average height, it wasn’t a big deal, but now that I’m under the average it’s plainly annoying.  Interesting though.  When I look up the average heights of men in Canada, I’m under, but if I compare myself to the average heights of people in the Philippines I’m over.  I guess that makes sense given the difference in standards of living.  What the heck, man?

You know, I think that I’ll forget all about it in a few weeks.  I mean, physically nothing about me has changed.  If people around me treated me a certain way (subconsciously) because of my height they will continue to do so even after my discovery.  The only thing that could possibly change is my attitude, right?  If I suddenly act like there’s something wrong with me then people will just feed off of that energy, yes?  So, hey, it’s just business as usual.  Jason is still Jason.

Interesting how I spoke about bad footing last night.  During this morning’s run the temperature was hovering at around freezing.  Due to the wavering temperatures there was an inordinate amount of ice and slush on the ground.  The route has this long downhill aspect to it.  I accompanied someone at the back of the group.  As we were going down the hill we were careful to avoid the pools of cold water that were collecting at street corners.  At one point, I ran around one of the puddles while the other person jumped it.  Due to the slippery conditions though she ended up jamming her right foot.  Brutal!

I immediately had flashbacks to last year when I slipped on an ice patch myself.  We stopped, then walked it out for a bit.  She tried to start going again, but the discomfort was just too much.  I tried to be positive about it: at least we have a week to go before race day.  She has an opportunity to ice things down and get her feet back into good condition.  So, all isn’t lost, right?  Still, I recognized the sudden sense of panic that came over her.  I did my best to get her to relax and refocus.  Yes, we walked back for the majority of the route, but I think I did a good job getting her to not feel sorry for herself.  Injuries are a fact of this sport, yes?  We can do all of the preventative things possible, but every now and then something will sneak in there and throw you off course.  All you can do is just deal with it as best you can, then move on.

We still have a week left.  I do not want to be injured.