The calf strikes again

You'd think that at my age I would have learned a few things.  I was a track athlete in college with solid coaching.  I learned about strength training and the importance of warming up, and not over doing it. But there I was, in the gym on the treadmill doing intervals.  I was with my lovely wife and we were side by side doing a minute of high intensity with a minute rest.  I was cranking the speed up a little more each time.  On the 10th or so interval, I cranked it up to 12 mph and was cruising along, enjoying how smooth and fluid I was running.  I imagined that the other people in the gym were turning to admire my graceful form.  Heart 'Magic Man' was cranked on the iPod and I could barely stifle a self satisfied smirk when....'ping'....it was my calf.  OK, maybe it didn't actually make a sound but, in my memory, I could swear there was a ping.  My calf was pulled.

I have a history of long recovery times when it comes to calf pulls or tears.  Long as in 6 months...or even a year.  It's always the right calf.  Maybe it's never recovered from the first bad tear.  As I limped at a slow walking pace on the treadmill, my wife casting worried glances my way, I suddenly found 'Magic Man' to be annoying instead of rockin'.  I turned the volume down as I struggled to let this sink in.  I'd pushed it too hard.  I wasn't ready to run that fast.  Heck, I hadn't been running much at all lately.  I'd spent all of my time on the bike getting ready for the racing season.  Now I was lame.

This came on the heals of a week of travel with no bike, followed by a week of stomach heaving, feverish sickness.  What makes this all the more difficult to deal with is that I had gotten myself in pretty good shape throughout the winter.

With the calf not making much improvement, I started riding my commute again.  Yes, it ached, but it wasn't getting worse.  At least I was getting some cardio in, and I was taking it easy.  As the day of the Estacada time trial approached, I agonized over weather or not I should race.  At the last minute, I signed up.   As I neared the start house, I downed a bottle of noticed everyone had water bottles.  So I started asking folks if it was 10 miles or 20 miles.  It turns out it was over 20!  It was 10 point something out...and another 10 point something back!!  OK, well, unwatered, I set off.  Within the first minute I knew that I had damaged the calf.  Favoring the leg, and limited by my lack of cardio fitness, I rode on, determined to finish and perform respectably.  I did end up averaging just over 19 mph.  I would have been happy with that, given the hills and the strong winds, if everyone else hadn't been so much faster.