For a period of about five days, I was convinced I would not be able to run the Philly marathon at all.
After last Tuesday’s failed run, I committed to taking it easy. I rested on Wednesday and Thursday and ran — timidly — on Friday and Saturday. I shuffled through both runs without a disconcerting degree of pain, but everything still felt tight, jacked up, and discombobulated in a way that promised to become problematic at a faster pace.
Sunday was another rest day, which happened to coincide with a field trip for one of my classes. We were kayaking around some wetlands, and at one point we stopped to investigate a savanna next to the river. The banks were slippery and mucky. I exited my kayak, began hauling it up the slick shore, and subsequently found my feet skidding out from underneath me down the bank. Windmilling to stay upright, I performed a complicated series of breakdance moves in order to prevent a full wipeout.
In the process of saving myself from a muddy butt, I wrenched my entire lower back along with the offending leg, and was treated to a sacroiliac symphony of crackles and pops.
I woke up on Monday morning feeling normal and have been enjoying pain-free runs ever since. Perhaps all I needed in the first place was a good chiropractor.
Would that such serendipitous quick fixes existed for everything.