kristen post race beer

Post-race beer is the best beer.

Last night was the beer run. No, not our regular weekly (nightly?) beer run, but the actual race. The one I was telling you about. The one for which I’d set a couple of lofty goals.

I fell short. Quite short, actually. As a matter of fact, I ran a few seconds slower than my normal time. But, before you get too upset with me or start showering me with pity, I promise I have a great excuse explanation — you see, I haven’t been running in the last couple of weeks. See? Now it all makes sense.

The first time my left foot experienced the utter tragedy that is plantar faciitis, I was just starting to run with some consistency, probably 5 or 6 years ago. Maybe a little more. I didn’t know what it was, so I thought, oh, I’ll just stretch and ice a little and keep going. The “keep going” part proved to be problematic, landing me with a foot in so much pain that I was on crutches for two days, and couldn’t sleep for a couple of nights because there was no position in which I could hold the foot that didn’t make me want to cut it off and beat somebody with it. It was really unpleasant, but I learned that I needed to follow most of my runs with an ice bath or ice pack to the foot, and, when I felt that old familiar tightness, it would be in my best interest to just stop.

So, a couple of weeks ago, after a really, really good run (of course), my foot started acting up, and, knowing that I wanted to do this race, I decided to take it easy and just get my exercise by swimming and doing yoga. I even stopped wearing flip flops, and I’m not sure you understand how difficult a feat that is for me.

Anyway, bottom line is, I completed the race. I did four miles in a little under 41 minutes. Honestly, under normal circumstances, I’d be pissed, but, you know, I was still able to finish, and for the most part, I really did run. If I hadn’t been putting in the hard work prior to the injury, I have no doubt I would’ve logged a much slower time.

And Jared bought me a beer afterward. I might be limping today, but you won’t hear me complaining. (Much.)