I ran slow today. E rode her bike and along the way I did my best to impart tips about the rules of the road such as how to anticipate what a car will do at an intersection, when to use the Idaho Stop, and how to safely cross railroad tracks.
My heartrate averaged 10-12 beats per minute below a tempo run. I was able to talk whenever and for however long necessary. It was nice, and hopefully, good for me too. Over and over I read about how important it is to incorporate slow recovery runs — today was the day.
I was also a little tentative for the first 15 minutes because last night I injured the arch of my right foot. Today there is a tiny scrape, a bruise, and a hard knot in the muscle of the arch — about an inch in diameter — as a result of giving a wall a big kick.
How and why I found myself wedged against a wall, in six feet of water, with a boulder of a man doing all he could to get a ball away from me is not very interesting. That I kicked with all my might and managed to both lose the ball and kick the wall would be comical if it didn’t hurt so much. Suffice it to say that my water polo skills are worse than my running skills.