It’s hard for me to wrap my head around the fact that I have a half marathon to run tomorrow morning. TOMORROW! Yet, my body’s usual yelps have started back up. Maybe they never stopped. Who knows? I guess I could have been so taken with my surroundings that I didn’t pay much attention.
Anyhow, I have this race. This hilly, kick-ass kind of race that I’m not 100% sold that I can give it the attention I want to and come out the other end relatively intact. I try to remind myself, out of self-preservation more than anything, that I walked this race in 2006, while injured purely because I wanted my Tiffany necklace. Quite honestly, that does little for me today.
Each morning, I roll out of bed and assess: How does my back feel today? How loud is my sciatic nerve screaming? These questions I have been asking for too many months now. I’m tired of it.
This morning, I woke to find that my back didn’t hurt. My sciatic nerve wasn’t screaming at me either. Quietly, I celebrated the moment. Then I went down to the garage to see if I could figure out how to kick on the heat in the house. The weather is changing.
When I rose from squatting down beside the heating device, unsuccessful in remembering how I got the thing working last year, my sciatic nerve caught like barbed wire catching on your clothing as you walk past too closely.
Fortunately, it seems to be the sort of catch that slows you down for only a brief moment. At least that is how I am dealing with it for the most part. Just for kicks, I thought I’d take a dose of Ibuprophen for good measure — in case the anti-inflammatory response actually helps matters.
And now…I must get packing.