After the breakup

This morning I did my first solo run since I broke up with the team. I drove over to Pratt Park, having decided to do three or four laps on the relatively flat course that encircles the soccer fields. Each lap is 1.1 miles around.

It was cold -- about 28° -- so I wore long pants and two long-sleeved technicals. The iPod was all set with an episode of This American Life. I started out awkwardly. It was like I didn't know how to run. I thought I was keeping a conservative pace, but it felt like I was out of breath almost immediately. I stopped, coughed, started again. Same thing -- I became winded within seconds. Panicky thoughts ran through my head, was something happening? Was my breathing changing? Was I no longer able to run? If that was the case, then I would walk, thinking it was better than nothing. I walked for a few minutes. My breathing became regular, I felt calmer. I gave it another shot and started a slow, easy "wog” (which is the word I use to describe my running -- sort of a cross between walk and jog). This time I had better success. With the exception of walking the part of the course that has a bit of a rise, I did four solid laps.

So, that's that. I made it out the door without having anyone to meet, I came home without having an after run refreshment. I suspect I will catch up on a lot of podcasts this way. Not a bad way to spend a Saturday morning, all things considered.

Hand update: the nails on my right hand are growing beautifully. I guess this is to make up for the fact that I cannot even come close to making a fist. I can curl my fingers about halfway but there is no way in hell my fingertips ever make contact with the palm of my hand. I don't think the right hand has atrophied anymore, mostly because I don't think there's any muscle left. It is so surreal.

The left-hand is still capable of making a fist. The fingers are definitely separating and I do notice some swelling. The atrophy is more noticeable between my thumb and first finger, but my thumb muscle still has much of its bulk.

On a functionality scale, one being the worst and 10 being the best, I would say the right-hand is now about a two, and the left-hand is a 9.5.

And finally, there was another death announcement on PLM today. I've stopped reading them. I don't mean any disrespect, but I can't look. I used to read the Washington Post obituaries every day, but I was detached and simply curious. The death announcements on PLM are all about people who have the same disease -- my stupid disease. I am not anywhere close to dying and I don't want to read about those who have died. Maybe later, but not now.

Terps play in half an hour. Not a bad way to spend a Saturday afternoon.