Yesterday at the soccer game I ran into a woman I know who is also doing the half-marathon on Saturday. She was telling me about the problems she has had with her Achilles tendons in the past, including a rupture that required surgery. She showed me the scar running up her right calf. You might recall that I've had multiple flavors of running injury: sprained ankles, sore knees, whiny hips, wobbly SI joint with accompanying stubborn pain. Oh, and plantar fasciitis. Mustn't forget the plantar fasciitis. As I made sympathetic noises I thought to myself, "I've never even heard a whimper from an Achilles tendon."
This afternoon I went out for a pleasant little recovery run and do you know what happened? Two miles in, my right Achilles tendon began to tell me that it had led a sad neglected life. Perhaps, it said via Morse code waves of ouch, I would like it to tell me about all the hard work it has done for me this season. I finished the run and it is only feeling moderately sad and neglected now, but I had to roll my eyes at the timing.
Nobody tell me about your typhoid fever experiences, okay? Because I don't have time for that this week.
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