Several months ago I signed up for a 5K race at a veterinary convention in August. August is a long, long time away. I recently came to the conclusion that August is now sneakily less than two months away. I haven’t been running since I hurt my hip this winter. That isn’t because the hip is still hurt. It is because I’m a slacker. You know, what finally fixed my hip? Fencing. It was my right hip. When you fence left handed you lunge to the left over and over. That stretches your right hip over and over. Problem solved.
Anyway, I decided that it was time to start getting serious about this running thing if I didn’t want to look like a total fool come August. To make things worse this 5K is in Atlanta. In August. Odds of death? High.
Yesterday I decided to go running formally and officially. Freckles and I have been doing lots of walking. We also run on the short trail in the dog park sometimes. She is not out of shape. We started easy. We did intervals of 1.5 minutes running and 1.5 minutes walking repeated over and over. Freckles decided to run at about 95 miles per hour. I was capable of about, uh, 1 mph. It was sad. But we got through about 1.5 miles.
When we got home we went into the basement to see where to put a new freezer. I noticed that Freckles seemed to have a hard time going back up the stairs. But when we got to the top she took off running and wasn’t lame at all. Instead of jumping onto the couch she sort of slid up onto it. I said to the SO that I thought there was something wrong with her. He said that I was making her self conscious because I was staring at her. She had a nap on the couch and then walked normally and ran up the stairs at bedtime without a hitch.
I thought she was fine until she crashed when she tried to jump onto the bed. I had to lift her up. She jumped down and chased a cat with no problems but I had to lift her up again. When the SO came to bed I said that she really was hurt. Then he went into crisis mode. His poor baby was hurt so he cuddled her. He questioned what I was planning on doing with her. My answer that she was getting mobility back since she could climb stairs now so she should just rest was not fully accepted.
He has discovered the James Herriot books. He’s been listening to them back to back on CD. He thinks he’s a vet now. He probably could be a vet in 1930s England. Whenever I talk about a case he says, “At least you have sulfa drugs.” So this morning he wanted a better vet recommendation as Freckles looked at him mournfully. He wanted her to come to work with me. I said she acts a fool at the office and would probably hurt herself worse so she should stay home and rest. He gave me a stern look. “Am I going to have to call Mr. Farnon?” Seigfried Farnon was James Herriot’s boss and when old-timers didn’t agree with the young vet they called Mr. Farnon.
I found a stash of pain killers that I forgot I had and gave her some this morning. She has heat over her left lumbar area. That fits with not being able to jump. It is probably a muscle strain and therefore she needs to rest. Like I said. Hopefully she’s better when I get home or he’s going to drive me crazy.