Sometimes my body is a colossal asshat. Since January 1st, I’ve run 131 miles on ice, in mud, snow, rain and single digit temps, and against 50 mph wind gusts. I was happy to do all of that (don’t read that to mean happy about it) because if I’ve learned anything about running in Leadville, it’s that conditions change as quickly there as they do here - and with just as much drama. Even still, I was really looking forward to a rare 60˚ January day and 14 miles on the dirt, but my SI joint has picked the most beautiful weekend we’ve had since fall to get wild and throw a nerve stomping party in my back. My low back started feeling achy Friday morning after an easy short run, and yesterday morning, I decided to be smart and push those miles to Sunday afternoon. I went to a yoga class, instead, did a bunch of stretchy yoga at home throughout the day, drank turmeric like it was coffee (I know the saying is water, but for me, it’s coffee), and sat in a hot arnica and eucalyptus bath so long that I had to drain the cold water and refill a second time. This morning, I had awareness, but no pain. Sweet! I’ll go slow and see what happens!

I set out for a short run with Wendy, and after two and a half miles, we had to turn back and walk it in. I’ve never not been able to run through the pain, so this is a bit unnerving/frustrating/makes-me-want-to-punch-someone. For the first time in my running life (or more accurately, actual life), I’m going to call the doc tomorrow to address it now. And not at all because I’m a yogi, and yogis don’t punch people. And definitely not because I just spent the past hour decidedly not self-diagnosing based on internet research that suggests cancer, bone infections, or spinal cord damage. In the meantime, laying off running until the doc can get me in, and I’m Pollyanna-ing the shit out of the weekend by playing around with some handstand press work and funky inversions. The road to Leadville is long, but I’m doing my damnedest to stay on it. Stay tuned.