I'm running around town this weekend like the proverbial headless chicken. Yesterday I built a retaining wall for an overgrown flowerbed. I never did go run last night as I had planned because I went shopping out of town with my brother and subsequently ate a lot of shrimp. Mmmm. Yummy! I recommend the teriyaki as well as the Parmesan crusted shrimp. Heheh.
Running last night was probably not the best idea anyway. My shins were aching. Not the muscles though... Down by the bone. I read last night that the skeletal system is the last to adapt to running, and that it takes about a year for the bones to get accustomed to the pounding. So I guess this means that I have a long way to go, baby. At least until May before I can expect the pain to lighten up. Unless I count back from last Thanksgiving when I ran my first 5k? Hmm.... Okay, silly notion. I have to take it easy until the pain goes away. And that could conceivably take until May.
Sucks. But hey, people already mistakenly think this is the first time I will have to deal with chronic pain, so allow me to enlighten. It hurts when I walk, especially when I wake up in the morning. Not just the soles of my feet, but my hips as well, down deep in the joints. It's been going on for several years. For eleven years there has been the worsening numbness in my right thigh that has turned into an excruciating burning along the nerves. Fortunately, it's only 50% of the day -- while it is numb all of the time now, the pain only troubles me 50% of my waking hours, and it has only recently included my left leg.
Ah, I haven't told anyone yet that my "degenerative femoral nerve" problem has not only worsened over the last year -- it's spreading. The neurologist told me that if I lose weight, there is a small chance that it will help the problem. Or he can prescribe strong painkillers that will most definitely make me gain weight.
So I'm running. It might help me. I want to run again because I enjoyed it as a child. I might even accomplish some small achievement that will finally mean something to me. It'll make me feel better, somehow.
Today I bought more landscaping blocks and built another wall around a raised flowerbed. Also took a load of clothes to my father's to wash (my washer is broken) and got it back here with another load washing now.
And I'm still hurting, though I have to go run soon. At least with all the blocks I moved, I think I can count it as weightlifting. :). My elbows are killing me, and my hamstrings are a little sore, but I'm willing to give it all a try. Besides, if I run tonight, i'll earn a badge in my couch to 5k program. LOL
It's all about the gold stars, ya know. I never got enough of them. And I sure as heck don't get anything to shore up my morale these days. Intrinsic motivation it will have to be, just like always.
I did notice while I was outside feeling like I was building Stonehenge ("Building a 'henge are we? Fantastico!") that the creepy tenant next door has attached a framed photo of a horse... On the siding facing my bedroom. Yeah, that's right. He has nailed a picture onto the outside of the house. He's also put a tall skinny brown plastic vase with a few cheap plastic flowers in the middle of the front yard. Who does that? There is obviously something wrong... More than just bad taste. He ain't clicking on all cylinders and he's developed an unwelcome interest in me. Thursday morning he came knocking on my door before 7 am. Wth??
I didn't answer it. I've stopped answering the door when he knocks. Much the same as the other old guy on the other end of the street who wouldn't stop pestering me. He has a record for stalking. I was one more incident away from calling the cops when he stopped. Maybe it helped that I stopped driving past his house on the way home from work.
It really bothers me that these men more than 20 years my senior have always paid me too much attention. Of course when I was younger, the age gap was sometimes 30, 40, or even 50 years. Believe me, it's as bad as it sounds. Beyond 10 years, the idea of dating older men just creeps me out. (Younger too, for the record.)
Well at least the creepies are giving me fiction writing material.