An Apologia But Don't Think I'm Saying Sorry

I don't write for anyone to read, or not usually. I used to carry an image of an average newspaper reader in my brain, and then for a few years I had a very specific person in mind while I wrote, just filtering my stuff through my perception of her perception. A little crutch, or assist, but she died and I just never replaced her.

And now I've been doing it too long. I blog here because that's what I do; I rarely suppose anyone will read it, although obviously people do. I get a fair number of page views, and I know nothing but that, but I assume there are a few readers (got a few Feedly subscribers, too).

So I thought I'd explain.

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I mentioned the other day that I wouldn't mind revisiting my early-aught experience of protoblogging, or whatever we were doing. I found myself feeling sentimental for those days, sort of Facebook For A Few, although we never blocked or hid anyone (I didn't, anyway; I think Gordon had more trolls). A nice, small community of supportive...something, whatever we were doing. We did it, and others did it, and we encouraged and teased and pushed each other, usually in our responses and the ensuing thread of conversation.

So I tossed it out on Facebook IRL, and so some of us are trying it again in February. Already I've read this beautiful essay on the sorrow of watching one's child grow up and away by Melodee. I'll highlight the others here as I go through the month, trying to remember how to be a good blog reader. Really, I think we're so out of practice. I never comment anymore, and I know how fun it can be to read comments and get feedback. Shame shame. Try harder.

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That's the explanation, if you needed one. Again, I don't know who you are, not really. Welcome. It might get busy for a month. I have no idea what this will look like.

I have no idea about lots of stuff. I buckled down and wrote a long blog post the other day to start our blogging month off, and as far as I can tell no one read it. Maybe no one even saw it.

Or maybe it was impossibly boring to get through, which occurs to me and makes me laugh. It's the worst thing I can do, bore someone, but it's gonna happen.

The gist of that post: I decided to change things up in my routine. Really felt the need for a jumpstart in some way. A couple of times in the past few years, I've been outside walking and gone for a little jog. Just to see if I could still run and still approximate a human being while doing so.

I could, at least by those tests, and it felt good. Springy. Some energy there. I've resisted the return to the road because I don't feel I need it; I can get aerobic exercise in another way, and my knees are fine, thank you. Not sure I wanted to risk them on a spark.

But it occurred to me, so I bought this running belt thing to hold my phone and keys so I could wear sweat pants. I was going to start Thursday but the belt didn't show up until 8pm (I NEEDED that belt), and it was pouring rain all day anyway. Yesterday looked better, drier and mild. I belted up and headed out.

Right when we had this little squall pass over. By the time I'd walked to the end of the block (walking at first), not wearing a cap, my glasses were impossible. I could barely see anything, and I awkwardly got my running app started (I was curious about time and pace and distance) and headed out, a little unsure.

Immediately my left hip felt very tight. Weirdly tight. Never noticed it before. There was no spring this time; it was painful. I ran about a quarter of a mile, hoping it would loosen up, but it stayed the same. By then, of course, I was in trouble, because I was essentially blind from the rain. So I stopped, turned around and headed home, to try another day.

After walking a bit, the rain lessened and I started feeling a little guilty. Did I give up too early, just from some unused muscle-tendon-joint soreness and a little wet stuff? I started jogging again, again doing about a quarter-mile before it just seemed dumb. This was really painful.

In several ways. For years, this is what I patted myself on the back about. I've made all sorts of changes over the past decade. I've taken it slow, and smart, and safe. I resisted pushing foolishly into scary territory; I ran a lot when I was younger, and I knew what that was all about. I've seen running friends, exceptional athletes in their prime, blow out knees and hips and ankles, hobbled for life. I don't think so.

But damn. I couldn't move last night. I mean, I could move, but it was pretty pathetic. Sitting or lying, no pain at all. Walking? Big pain. But tightness pain, soreness even. Didn't feel major. Felt as though I pulled a muscle. Maybe strained a tendon or...I know the anatomy but I really have no idea. I just know it's my left hip, and it's definitely sore, and this morning it's definitely much better. I doubt I did permanent damage.

But I doubt I'll try running again. Might just start biking, or doing more serious hiking. I might want to stay away from this, though.

So, in the form of an update, there's that. Got sore, don't know why, getting better. May look in a different direction.

Will be blogging. So will others.

Over and out.

(I posted this yesterday, when I finally broke down and went shopping for a new pair of jeans, without my wife anxiously pacing outside the dressing room, waiting to give her opinion. I tore my favorite pair almost a year ago, and have been wearing jeans that are an inch bigger than these in the waist, which means they droop and sag and make me crazy. This has nothing to do with running, although I'd argue it says something about age. I texted her the picture to get her approval, at any rate.)