Week 14: More ice, and it's not on the pavements this time

This is not a happy picture.  This is the picture of someone who decided their niggles could be run on and did several snowy runs including 22 miles through slush last weekend, when in fact their niggles needed a lot more time to get better.  This is the picture of someone optimistically strapping ice to their calves in the hope it will effect some miracle cure.

I hurt my ankle a few weeks ago.  It was twisted in an altercation with my son.  I didn't rest it enough, and almost certainly as a direct result of running on it and compensating for it, I hurt my knee.  I did rest that, for a bit, but then I was eager to make up for lost mileage and I ran a lot last week on snow, and ice, and slush.  I ran 22 miles on Sunday, and I woke up on Monday with a lot of pain in both calves.  Not the usual tired ache of a lot of times, but pain of the definitely not good shouldn't be run through type.  I vainly hoped it would last a day or two, maybe a week at worst, and it would be fine.  Several days later and for my left calf I'm almost certain that is the case.  If they both felt like the left one does I'd probably have run this morning.  As the pain in the right calf dies down, however, it's giving way to the sinking suspicion that not all the pain is coming from the muscle, and that I've almost certainly done "something" to my Achilles.  Achilles pain is not to be messed with, I won't run through it, so I'm waiting and hoping.

I haven't run all week, I've attempted to cross train, grumpily, and I'm waiting to see how things go next week.  I'm trying not to acknowledge the possibility that I may not be able to run the marathon without the real possibility of seriously injuring myself for some time, something I'm not willing to do.  I've absolutely promised myself that I will not start a marathon with Achilles pain as I know that would almost certainly be writing off the summer's running for me.  I can't do that; I rely on running too much.  It is my escape, and my sanity. 

Of course none of this is going to happen, because it's just a bit of calf strain, and by next week I'll be boinging along like a spring fucking chicken and regretting giving up my Ashby 20 place.  That's what I keep telling myself.