I finally asked Barry to look at the pain I've been having in my foot next to my heel. with all the talk about Plantar F-whatever-its-spelled (fascistic?) that plagues runners, I was a little afraid, even though I consulted dr google who told me no, I didn't have the correct symptoms.
So it turns out the foot pain is related to my calf muscles (cycling, anyone???) and a long, deep muscle that goes does into my foot that has a long Latin name, peroneus longus. Barry massaged the muscles along the shin and then the sore spot on my right foot. I was unable to breathe. It felt like he was burning me with his finger tips. He said I have bumps in the muscle (the technical Dutch term, I'm sure (resulting from over use). And showed me some stretches.
I asked why is this uber-painful touching supposed to help? Increased blood circulation, he said.
I skipped my planned ride today to let my legs recover a bit more. (Barry does not tell me whether or not to train, just to come back if I do) he also made slightly perturbed noises that I have waited so many months to get a little help with this. (it comes and goes, I tried to explain). I go back on Monday for more torture, I mean treatment.
I also pulled the plug on the Oly in Berlin. It's just too much. I don't want to grind myself into the ground and be unable to ride in Limburg in September. And I have sprint tri's the next two weekends anyway.
Today's picture. Grocery shopping by bicycle. This afternoon, two young men showed up in my house and announced they were hungry and asked what I was making for dinner. Maybe I should have gone for that late afternoon ride after all. This picture demonstrates that I am in fact a drug pusher, since I bought my older son some Monster or some such to power him through his last couple finals.
|I made French fries, known here as patat|
|nicely balanced on the handle bars|