Wednesday, September 27, 2006
A Stupid Related Injury
When somebody runs thirty miles per week or more, you expect them to get some running related injuries. That’s a lot of slamming your feet down onto the ground, after all. Considering that it takes the average Hummer about five gallons of gas to go that distance, you have to admire someone who can do it on only sixteen cases of HoHos™ and twelve gallons of Gatorade™. A running related injury wouldn’t be anything special, just what you’d expect, as I said. Luckily for me, I can report a much more memorable incident from last Friday. Friday was the day when I received a stupid related injury in my hip.
Stupid related injuries, of course, are nothing new. Have you seen that TV ad for Cox Cable where people run into lamp posts and walls because they’re transfixed by a sign advertising high speed Internet access? Those are stupid related injuries. They’re funny because they don’t happen to you. You probably knew, or maybe you were, some kid who jumped off the garage roof trying to clear the family car and land in a wading pool. That was stupid, just so you’ll know.
What I did on Friday was go over to the car show called “Super Run 2006” that was being held a few blocks from where I live in Downtown Henderson. Yes, downtown, a real inner city sort of place where you might be shocked to find gambling going on in some establishments. Twenty years ago the area was a biker hangout, and even today you’ll see some guys pedaling their way around, so it can be dangerous to the unwary. Such as somebody who steps off of a wall as if it were a standard step, for example.
The car show was distracting due to all of the noise, and people, and really odd looking cars, one of which was ninety years old and probably looking better than it did when it was new. Amongst the distractions was a booth selling Hawaiian hot dogs, made from Kobe beef, which is apparently what makes them different from regular old hot dogs. In fact, other than the available teriyaki sauce, there didn’t seem to be anything unusual about the stuff they sold, making me wonder just what it is Hawaiians eat. Picnic food, apparently, but the hot dogs were actually pretty good. I got one and sat on the edge of a wall to eat it. Obviously there were some pretty strong Hawaiian drugs in it, because when I was done I stepped down like I was on a stairway and, well, nothing else happened. I was down. Three hours later I was having trouble walking. I had to skip my Sunday morning run, and use an exercise bike today. Tomorrow is another day, and we’ll see.
It’s not the injury, it’s that the injury is stupid related, that bugs me.
In the good news, my time is down to 12:34 per mile. That’s exactly 5:34 off of my former usual pace. And 5:34 is still slower than a world class athlete runs a marathon. Go figure.
