Shot in the Foot = Shot in the Arm

I haven’t written recently because there was a time when everything seemed to have gone Wrong.
They’d been going quite right, as you can see from my previous post, and they continued to for a while: on the first three weekends in October, I ran 13.5 miles in Berlin (I’d planned 12, but got lost, which is always fun); 16 in Amsterdam’s beautiful Vongelpark, beginning before first light; then 18 in London, again beginning in the pre-dawn dark, and cruising around Hyde Park, then over to Buckingham Palace, through monumental Whitehall, over to the Houses of Parliament, back to Hyde Park for another loop or two. Real tourist stuff, and real fun.
Except all this time my foot was hurting. Whether it was all the walking (a full schedule, even an easy one, of marathon training, plus daily city walking of three to five miles), bad shoes, bad orthodics, or bad karma, I don’t know. But although running through the pain wasn’t too bad, walking through the pain was killing me. I was finally forced to take a week off and, even worse, go see my doc. I was not happy.
The doctor said it wasn’t a stress fracture, probably just some irritated nerves, and did I want a cortisone shot? Because that would probably “calm things down” instantly.
No. Not me. Not that I’m Mr. Natural, but I do tend to resist medical intervention when possible.
Until I tried running again, finishing 14 with difficulty, and it appeared it was either cortisone or a long rest, one that would’ve wrecked my plans to run a marathon December 4 in Palm Beach, Florida. (Possibly not the world’s most exciting marathon, but it looks nice, and my mother’s birthday is a couple of days earlier, so I thought I’d surprise her. Not a word, please.)
So I got the shot. Which, I swear to you, made the foot feel better before the needle was out. (Maybe all those pro athletes are on to something.) I took it easy for a few days, then ramped up again and finally ran 17 – beginning, once again, before dawn – on the day (and in part on the route) of the Trail Running Gear. (Which, I swear, if I’d known the weather was going to be that good, I would’ve run.)
Now I’m set for a 20 this weekend and then, incredibly, the beginning of a taper. Honestly, I haven’t been this psyched in a long time. More next week.