"You gotta know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em...Know when to walk away, know when to run..."
Someone was singing this earlier, and I couldn't help laughing to myself a bit about how well it applies to my running life lately. Today I really wanted to run an easy 6-7 miles, but when I woke up this morning my tibias and calves made it clear that this was perhaps not the smartest of ideas. I'm pretty sure I could get through it, but I've definitely learned that the day before a scheduled long run is a particularly bad day to gamble with my legs. I have a feeling that if I ran today, I'd be incapable of running 10-12 miles tomorrow, and I really don't want to risk that.
Word, Kenny. Word.
On the bright side, I finally got an appointment with the running podiatrist in Palo Alto, so I'm really pumped to talk to him about the different types of pain I've been having and whether he thinks there's anything more that can be done about it (because really; 25-30 miles a week should not keep me perpetually on the brink of injury). He apparently keeps busy since the earliest appointment I could get was two and a half weeks away, but better late than never, I suppose.
Sigh. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got some quality couch-sitting to do.