Some days I feel like a twenty-five-year-old work-truck

Some days I feel like a twenty-five-year-old work-truck wondering which part is going to break next.

Last week was a big week for running. I clocked fifteen miles in four runs. Two five-mile runs and then two runs in one day that added up to another five miles.

This week I got hit with the cold on Monday-ish. Then my I had pain in my gluteus medius. That is the muscle the nurse aims for when she gives you a shot in the butt.

I decided to try a gentle run this morning. I gave myself permission to go slowly and to knock off early.

The great news is that the pain in my gluteus medius disappeared after a half mile, so it was not an inflamed bursa (No, not a small handgun. A bursa is a slippery sack of fluid that allows sheets of muscle to slide past each other.) but just a garden-variety sore muscles.

The good news is that I ran three miles and then walked back. This week will not go into the record books for distance but it is far better to run three miles than to sit in the recliner and get fat(ter).