Not Gonna Happen

The title of the post came to mind a half mile into my brick run yesterday. I was doing a test run to see if I could make the start line for the Escape to Alcatraz triathlon this coming Sunday, my all time favorite race. Arriving home, I was in such denial that I set out again just to make sure. I ran about a quarter of a mile before I had to turn around, but this time, I couldn't even jog home but had to walk it in. I'm injured. Here's how it went down:

The Wednesday following my last race about two weeks ago, I wanted to do a 14-miler to get in some mileage for my upcoming half ironman. About 4 miles into the run, my achilles felt a bit tight, but I chalked it up to minor post race aches and pain. The achilles progressively got tighter but I really wanted to get the 14-miler in. I made it to the half way mark and the turnaround and charged home. The achilles was pretty darn tight at this point and I had to keep my foot flexed and turned outward on each stride recovery to avoid pain. Somehow, it never occurred to me to stop. I had tunnel vision and the only thing I could see was the number 14. Well, I made it to number 13 and the pain was so bad, I couldn't even walk. I had to hitch a ride home. Once home, I iced it and didn't run until yesterday's test run. Apparently, since my achilles was tight, it put a lot of pressure on the ligament that runs along my inner ankle to carry the load. And this ligament cannot handle a lot of load, and well, I've gone and injured myself from doing one of my favorite races. And no half ironman either. In fact, I'm basically done until September since I'm traveling most of mid July and mid August. Time to do a lot of calf raises and work on being a "lifestyle" athlete. Where's that tennis racket?